29 August 2015

The Road – I Sit Beside the Fire

Greetings Dear Reader,

As I prepare to embark on my travel I find that I am leaving so many things behind.  It is a brief journey but much will transpire when I go.  I return to the roots of my pain and failure.  I return to the places where I could have made my life but instead sacrificed all that mattered for what I no longer have.

I will also see people I love with whom I do not get to spend enough time.  I pack light but this journey has so much baggage.   It also holds a few dangers from some of the old sources of pain.  I will return to the new abode that is not a home.

On either end of this is the road.  It will be time to think.  There are things of which I used to dream that will never be now.  I must bury those dreams and discover what new ones might take on life.  I will rediscover some old stories and discover some new ones.  Even my sleeping dreams have taken on a different character.

The road will always be there with its siren call.  The thoughts in solitude will be there as the miles slip beneath me.  The windmills and farms will be in full tilt as I drive through the night.  I wish that my arrival would be to hearth, pipe, and chilling ale.  Instead it will be to questions and expectations.

I will seek only the counsel of Christ for my heart and future.  I will miss the sounds of the door opening to family arriving home when I return.  This is where my feet have carried me and the only way out is through.  Journey with me Dear Reader and I will show you some beautiful haunts and hollows.  Perhaps we can find a fire, bowl, and cup yet.

I sit beside the fire and think – J.R.R. Tolkien

I sit beside the fire and think
Of all that I have seen
Of meadow-flowers and butterflies
In summers that have been;

Of yellow leaves and gossamer
In autumns that there were,
With morning mist and silver sun
And wind upon my hair.

I sit beside the fire and think
Of how the world will be
When winter comes without a spring
That I shall ever see.

For still there are so many things
That I have never seen:
In every wood in every spring
There is a different green.

I sit beside the fire and think
Of people long ago
And people who will see a world
That I shall never know.

But all the while I sit and think
Of times there were before,
I listen for returning feet
And voices at the door.

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis Thorn
Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every writer who has become a disciple of Christ’s rule of the universe is like a home owner. He liberally hands out new and old things from his great treasure store.”

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