The Road with No End
Donald P. Goodman III
Version 1.0,
Hear! For a song of the circle I sing,
of the roads which will run while the rivers still flow,
of a path without pause with no peace at the end
and no stop of the storm for the step-taker's rest.
For the wayfarer wishes the walk to be done,
for the end of his exile and entrance to ease,
for the heart to be hale in its home where it dwells.
But the mark is so murky, the mist has it hidden,
the closer he comes the more cloudy the goal,
the more forward he fares, and the further the end,
and he never can near it, the needfulest mark,
for it flees as he follows, the farer of ways,
and the stop of the circle always swings to the start
and the traveler is trapped on a train with no end;
thus the doom of the dying the old deathless did give:
the road must roll on with no rest for the poor.
But the farer's good Father can fix the dilemma,
the work of the weary the Wonderfather has eased;
he has straightened the circle, His Son and our brother,
and has ruled that the road must come round to an end,
and our sweat and our sorrow he has seen and had pity,
and his lifeblood has loosed in his love for our lives,
and our hearts can be happy, for the Helpgiver has made
a new way for the weary for the work of our peace!
Truly.