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Footprints Found

by louis gander  
12/26/2010 / Salvation


From birth, thrown in a frightful scene,
as life unveils its scroll.
We travel to and fro until
a pathway finds our soul.
Our days are dark and dreary.
Our nights are long and cold.
But here on earth we break our trail -
until we all grow old.

...

I broke my lonely pathway.
I traveled all alone -
and it, a unique pathway -
none else had ever known.
I traveled my own pathway.
I'd everything to lose.
But no one knew my pathway and -
no one wore my shoes.

One day I happened on a trail
aside from sin and hate -
but few were drawn onto it -
so narrow and so straight.
And on it I saw footprints,
that wavered, not the least.
I followed them most carefully
though problems never ceased.

That pathway found no safety -
and I had questioned 'why?'.
I heard the growling animals.
Black vultures circled high.
A lion jumped in front of me.
I froze - my faith devoid.
My goal, career and future were
virtually destroyed.

I heard loud screams from others -
more painful shrieks and cries -
and yes, I still was frightened -
not cloaked from sin and lies.
A jungled mess of selfishness,
a shadowed woods misguided -
drove the anger ever close.
My fear had not subsided.

Yet... steady still, those footprints.
They wavered not a bit.
They never once had faltered.
That 'someone' never quit.
I stopped and rested quite awhile,
then carried on again.
Faith had urged me onward so -
to flee from evils sin.

Still wavered not, those footprints,
still spaced the same apart -
this 'Someone' had a purpose,
this 'Someone' had a heart.
They led straight to a clearing.
It was so peaceful there.
I stopped and saw a beauty, to
which nothing could compare.

My mouth fell open, as to speak.
Mere words were at a loss.
I saw those faithful footprints aim -
directly to a cross.
Then clumsily, I stumbled -
I grasped that mighty tree.
My 'little faith' reached for support,
until grace lifted me.

'Born again', I was that day,
when I was made complete.
I hugged that bloody, splintered cross -
'til back upon my feet.
And yes, my eyes were opened.
Spilt blood had left the hint.
For clearly seen in crimson was -
His faithful, final print.

...

God sees us run in circles as,
we leave prints deep in clay.
He sees our every footprint as -
we're lost along the way;
Our path is never narrow,
nor straightway Heaven-bound -
and feet are either on our paths -
or in His footprints found.

2010 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
-------

Copyright 2017 by louis gander.
Poetry for sermons, story poems and more...
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