With you I’ve walked down matrimony’s aisle,
Ridden in a hearse’s funeral train reeling,
Danced down in a vale on summer’s day while
You wheeled round corners, walking for healing.
And we press on walking, no choice but to follow
Where the numbers take us correcting as we go.
How basal rates of meaning seemingly so shallow
Translate into our arriving there? We simply do not know.
In the end we each shall walk benighted and alone
Through the darkest valley — the last road trod,
Having wandered through this wilderness far from home
Found and led by our Albergue into spaciousness and broad,
Opening into a field of stars where He shall lead the way
Encircled in the hallowed rose of love and our eternal day.
(c) Randy Edwards
Backward Mutters 
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