There must be a place

 

I stand here at the edge of the road

The cross road…

The edge is the ditch of shame

How can one so zealous for his saviour be in such a place as this…

There must have been a wrong turn a planting of some sort that didn’t grow

And I came alone so I am

I go on but to what point and cause

Go to the North

Will I find one there

Go to the South are there any there who care

What if

Were I to the east where all the harsh storms come

Oh maybe to the west to the setting of the sun

But if I here remain

How ever shall I find life and change

Was I not planted long ago

What uproot now and where to go

Seems a fools foul game unwittingly I played

But still look I and believe

There must be a place

 

 

There Must Be A Place

Hubert Rondeau