There, uneven and abandoned,   a stairwell climbs a hill… Its steps but vestiges of stairs ‘midst shining daffodils   In fact, to most wand’ring eyes, its visage may not call… So hidden is its purpose ‘neath nature’s weathered fall   Atop the hill, no statue hails, nor landing ‘neath first rise… An obscure path ‘twixt high and low, its plan unrecognized   Yet, could it be that just beyond our hurried mundane sight, A vision calls from polished steps ‘neath ev’ning’s fading light?   “Look here!” Those daffodils exclaim with not eyes but spirit’s touch… “It’s here you’ll find Compassion’s trod, left healing in His dust.”   For ‘tis not the destination nor point of genesis, But ev’ry careful step between bathed in brokenness. Author Notes So, I wrote the poem from a mental image - the pic was, of course, found to post... so, yes! I realize there are no daffodils in the picture!! :-) :-) Feeling just a bit introspective and reflective this evening at the end of a VERY long week, so let's just say this was inspired... hope you find the message here. Thank you for reading me! ;-) Pic: flickr.com [Overgrown Steps, Bentley Haye LNR]

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