Stepping Stone

In the nursery of life, we track upon stones,

Each stage an excursion, every way our own.

Through fields of chuckling, and valleys of tears,

We explore the section of years.

A few stones are smooth, as cleaned dreams,

Others harsh, with murmured shouts.

Every one an illustration, a story to tell,

As we meander this world, enthralled with heaven.

Connected at the hip, we walk together,

Through turbulent climate, through radiant climate.

We lift each other when the street gets intense,

With graciousness and love, all that anyone could need.

So let us love these venturing stones,

For they're the substance of our questions.

In their breaks and cleft, we track down our direction,

Directed by trust, no matter what.