A Way To Greener Pastures

My words echo back to me Off barren walls Through empty halls Find no hearing ears this eve Except my own I'm quite alone. Soon perhaps I'll leave this place For greener fields 'Cross distant hills And never happen back this way Except in thought For lessons taught. I'll follow perchance this gale That birthed my soul And kept the coals of hope aglow A peaceful breeze that fills my sails And safely takes me Across seas of animosities. Here the grass has all but died And turned to brown Exposing bare ground No longer can my roots be tied I'll leave the wind the master To choose a way to greener pastures. Timothy I. Brumley Just in case any of my fans are wondering, I wrote this poem in 1979 just before coming back from overseas during my enlistment in the Air Force. The breeze, or gale, mentioned above represents the Holy Spirit.