My pristine vision, an artifact,
Predating tragedies
In this complicated world;
My insight clouded
By the complexities
And challenges,
Presented by daily life.

High atop this desert mesa,
The coolness of evening
Falls upon me with
The cascading sun;
Water by my side,
And bread to fuel my thought,
And all of life is simple,
Even with iron birds,
Looming on the horizon,
And contradicting all
That seems so effortless;
The organism and the earth,
Searching for the meaning
Withheld,
But imagined nonetheless.

What is it that You want me to know,
Far beyond the nighttime sky?
Or are You near,
As felt,
Here within my heart?
I am seeking You
With my every thought and deed,
Unborn and unencumbered by treachery,
Which is the pitfall of mortal men,
Misdeeds embraced by some,
Creating the gauntlet
That is human existence.

So, travelers are we all,
Explorers, no less than Magellan,
Not knowing our end,
Far less what lies beyond,
Yet we search,
And question,
And above all,
We hope,
That this is more
Than some transient dream,
That life goes on,
And matches,
At least,
That which we know today,
When, as I,
We climb high into the desert
And ask,
What value have I?
And what will be my fate?
And is this gentleness that
I feel toward my fellow man,
Your will,
Having set aside my hunter’s nature,
And taken on the mantle of kindness,
Blindly,
Believing it to be Thy will.