I walked once where the silence grew,
Through forests bathed in morning dew,
Where every stone and whispering tree
Held secrets meant for only me.
The path was old, with mossy bones,
Wound round forgotten sacred stones,
Each step a prayer, each breath a flame,
Each shadow called the ancient name.
The air was thick with quiet grace,
As if the earth had blessed this place.
The wind would chant in tongues unknown,
And stars would blaze where seeds were sown.
I saw the river, silver-spun,
Reflecting fire from the sun,
It spoke in ripples, soft and low,
Of all I was, and still must know.
The flowers bowed with wisdom’s weight,
Unraveled time, unbound my fate.
A single petal in my palm
Held lifetimes folded in its calm.
Now far I stray from sacred ground,
Where city noise and lights abound,
Yet in my bones, that path still winds,
Through quiet woods within my mind.
When dreams grow dim and hope feels far,
I find it ‘neath a twilight star—
That trail of light, the hush, the flame…
The sacred path I still can name.
For once you walk where spirit sings,
You carry home in everything.
Thank-you for reading.
Remember there are many paths back to God.
Follow your own path,
Brenda Marie
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