By Elvira

Sitting by a tree,                                       Back
feeling the bark,
First Father                        stretches                     out His
ghostly HAND
welcoming                  me home.

Soul                                   leaves                          the Rock —
reaching                      for       ?
looking                                    down,
I                 see                               Despair
I’m                   FREE
Unencumbered by
I                             travel:

Ancient Egypt
Modern Middle East

I                             cannot                         see His Face.
His Essence
enrobes ME
yet owe           a          debt
to HIM.

October 2014

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