I am going to post some past writing-- whatever I find that I would like to keep track of. This was tucked into a journal, written on notebook paper. It was dated Sept. 26, 1979.
Where do I go from here
is a question much dependent on where here is
and the direction which I face.
People tend to be shallow in their vision,
seeing only the road they've already begun,
seeing only the talents they've already proved,
Afraid of stretching out too far,
Afraid of vulnerability
Afraid of failure
Wary of success--a gateway to the unknown,
unexperienced, unexplored.
Searching for a fulfillment to fit my present, past, and future dreams. . .
Something that will blend into harmony with the whole
and yet,
add to the stature of the soul.
Who communes with God?
The careful man,
The wary man,
The concerned man,
The searching soul?
desire. . .
Where does man find desire?
Is it mined like gold, or given as a gift from friends
does it grow within himself
a seed nurtured carefully and tended?
From whence is found the seed
and how is the soil prepared for planting?
How is it guarded against the winter's blast,
the early frost?
Here in the midst of autumn leaves
of crisp cool mornings and sun filled days
Of blazing mountains
and silent sunrise
I find the bluster of scattered purpose
the cool crisp business of many colored moments
scattered in drifting piles and floating
softness upon fitful turnings
A scattering of members
A meeting of new fellows
A single autumn brightness
A million autumn brightnesses
A blazing crackling fire
of mellow warmth.
By Sherri Scovill
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