The wind is behind me,

        as I walk down the dust-ridden road.

    Introspection takes hold of me,

        places, faces, time swirl leaving wrought.

    I continue to walk slowly, nearing my destiny.

And the wind begats a breeze.

    A foreknown fork blocks my foward motion

    to the right, an elderly man stands with an agonized face

        and to His right, His Son.

    as I look to their eyes, I see an image.

    The image is of a child,

        whose life has been in vain -

        whose life has no meaning -

        oh, how I pity that child.

    Then, I realize the image is my reflection

        and my soul bleeds of humility

        my eyes drain with pain.

Behind me, a gale starts.

    With outreaching arms, They await me

    I step foward to within their grasp

    and as they put their arms around me;

the wind stills to a peaceful calm . . .

- 1982