Along the Way

This has been a matter,
I think now,
Of fruitless dreams
And mistaken expectations.

It was wrong-headedness
On my part
To have walked
(So many times
I have walked)
The curving,
Ever twisting,
Always turning
Path
Circumscribed
Within the circle
In the meadow,
Always hoping for,
Forever dreaming of,
If not expecting,
A realization,
If not a revelation,
Of a divine purpose
For my life.
And from the center
Of a place
Made holy
By the various and sundry
Prayers of so many,
I always wanted
To come away
So purposefully prepared
So certain of my way,
So suffused
With the gathered light
Of the Supreme Being
That I might know
Myself
As a child of God,
And that others
Might recognize in me
The same.

Instead,
By ways inscrutable
And by means unknowable,
My self
Has been continuously
Revealed
As but a steady
Low-burning flame,
A paltry light,
One that winks its way
Along the path
Through darkest night
On a journey that,
In part,
I have been given
And,
In part,
I have chosen.
The way is lit,
The darkness is dispersed,
The dangers revealed,
But barely,
And just to either side of the way
And just before the next step,
But it is,
After all,
The next step that begs,
No, demands,
Attention.
For behind me,
The darkness
Has already closed in
And all that
Has already
Passed
Is enveloped once again
In the mystery
Of what I am
And how I came to be.