Halfway There

The way weaves before me,

Following the path

Carved in stone

By the stream at my feet.

Tiny now,

This stream

That created this canyon

Of sweeping, soaring stone;

This cathedral

Honoring Nature.

Stone path, glistening with wet;

Sun making rainbows

Of the dew-like drops.

Here the ledge stretches

Over my head,

Just out of reach

Of my straining fingers.

Eons of history

Preserved in the

Layers of stone:

Brown,

Grey,

Black,

Mossy green.

A fern clings to a tiny crack.

Desperately,

Determinedly,

Defiantly.

“I will grow here!” it roars

In its tiny fern-voice.

Slipping softly by,

Patient,

Strong,

Enduring,

The stream grants grace,

Allowing the fern to grow

Undisturbed.

“Live and let live,” the stream sighs,

As she continues on her

Tranquil journey.

I round a curve

In the endless rock glen,

And elf-magic appears before me.

Here, the water

Descends

In a crystal-bead waterfall,

Blessing those who pass

Beneath it

With the trickle

Of its perfect droplets.

I reach out my hand,

And the world

Stands

Still.

All that is,

Is the water,

Drip by drip,

Kissing my fingers

With Nature’s love.

I stand transfixed,

As one

With the enduring beauty

Around me.

Halfway there,

Between Earth and Heaven.