“This long road is not my path.
It’s not fit for strolling,”
He said.
Lazy feet walked his dusty road.

“I know you’ll stay,”
He said, then mocked,

“On a ‘garden path’ I cannot see,
A beautiful thing to walk upon,
Beneath trees that wave when you appear, When you’re near.
And flowers
And birds
And streams
And things
And Love
And Light
And Beings
With little jests
That calm your frenzies!

“I know,”
He grinned before he chided,

“You won’t live darkly in this world,
Separated from your greatness
You won’t live, insensibly,
Doing nothing to help yourself.”

Submitted by Nai’mah Combs

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