I've been walking on a path
I'm not too sure about.
I examine the path.
It doesn't seem bad nor good,
I shrug and continue walking.
filled with a little more dreary.
filled with a little more melancholy.
I shrug and continue to walk--
my feet stick. I can't move.
I don't want to move.
You reach down.
With one hand you pick me up.
With the other you wipe the path.
The path is still dirt,
but this time edged with green.
The path is still bumpy,
but this time edged with streams.
I still walk,
but this time it's yours.
"O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you,
as in a dry and weary land where there is no water."