The Sign

The Signpost


The Master had bid him come
It was he He wanted most
to set out upon the path
towards the Golden Coast

The signpost stood but six feet tall
and pointed all directions
and round about the signpost’s crown
stood many path selections.

Eagerly the traveller walked closer
to find the path he’d follow
but each and every sign was blank
and it filled his heart with sorrow.

He looked above for guidance
for sun and stars he knew
but the storm clouds swirled about
and hid their faces from view.

With his eyes he followed one path
from near to far horizons end
it could be the right way
if he could but see around the bend.

Fear now gripped his heart.
Indecision ruled his mind.
The empty signpost leered at him.
The fear had made him blind.

What if he selected wrong?
would better here remain
then to wander through the aimless dark
to return to here again.

Hopeless now he delayed
as he stood in shivering thought
what if he never continued
in the pathway that he ought?

Down sat he and thought more
while inside heart was hollowed.
he hoped of close and timely rescue
None came in days that followed.

The lustre of the Master’s quest
had slowly waned.
That first eager step
a memory now drained.

Many days and longer months
from journey’s first inception
traveller stood and looked about
at his own indecision.

Could I not, he asked himself
have sought the Master’s face
on any path I see from here
and set out in His grace?

He recalled the Master’s smile
and how He’d bid him come
with arms and heart stretched wide
‘I’ll treat you like my Son.’

He recalled the months of idleness
where by the post he’d prayed
and day by day his sitting still
had all his hopeunmade.

The first step seemed to echo
in the silence that surrounded.
Hope in heart stirred as fear
was left by the post confounded.

Not far had he walked
by fear no longer hounded
to spy the Master standing, waiting
past a corner lately rounded.

My son where have you been?
Here long have I waited.
Yet glad I am of your arrival.
My love is not abated.

My Lord he cried, ‘I tried to come,
but lost was my fair vision
When I found a signpost blank as snow
In the valley of decision.

 I did not walk or turn about.
I stopped in fear and doubt.
How could I choose an unknown path?
Perchance there’s no way out?’

‘My son,’ he said, ‘I bid you come
and tis good to see you’ve grown.
You shouldn’t fear the path ahead.
Your path, to me, is known.’


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