"He stood at the edge of the river, gaze slowly shifting between the mountain valley of the Lord’s Bounty and his friend’s unrelenting quest for gold.  'We’re free,' he insisted.  'The two freest men in all the world…isn’t it enough?'  The Frenchman’s sharp eyes met the Scotsman’s disbelief. 'Is it for you, mon ami?'
'Aye,' Mckeag said softly.  'And always will be.'                             -“The Yellow Apron.”  Centennial, 1978  

The call slips cool through morning light,
Hides quiet in the gold that admits the day.
Go west, young man,
Come up, brave heart,
It’s long since you were away.
Escape the concrete, weary bones,
Unburden your soul of highway dust,
Drapetomani Run barefoot in beauty,
Find peace, for a time, in holy wanderlust.


Where shekinah rests on the mountains,
Draw near and find your rest.
Tabernacles of stone,
Restore faith once more,
To the limping spirit still blessed.
When shalom wraps ‘round in a flannel,
Steel string psalms float raw and bare,
Toward hope again,
Not to last, but to live,
And eternity echoes through star-pricked air.


Where enamelware pours the coffee hot,
And its warmth unburdens clouded eyes,
The limbs bow low,
In bodily prayer,
To salute the Son, to stretch and rise.
The altitude reveals the truth,
High Country calls me to learn and grow,
The journey ahead,
Down to low places led,
Cannot stifle the promise that leads us on.


In those sacred days of westering,
The Shabbat that heals the faith once more,
Compels obedience,
Renews the spirit,
To fulfill what the Lord has made him for.
And though hell and suffering bar the way,
Calvary has crushed a victory through,
Over shadow grace sings,
To our hearts bestows things,
That the angels of heaven only wish they knew.    



“When you meet me here again, you will have come to stay. But not now. You must go back to your own world for a while.”   -Aslan, The Silver Chair


All work subject to copyright by the author.  Use by permission only.  Neal.  2016.  Images via:  Eru Illuvatar, tumblr.com, and Josh Abe.