When all you've worked for winds along on a curve

And others see not the straight, but only what's heard

Then roads which lead to higher levels and places

Change their direction, and time no longer races 



For the real road is always underlying the course

And feet which stay on its ground will not pause

For the pathway is alive with so much good song

And as one proceeds, these tunes are carried along   



Until one gets to the point where all baggage is lost

For solid pavings one's found have prompted the toss

And all eyes focus only on the good deeds one's done

As other things are lost and become forgotten songs



- Tristram



Christopher W. Thomas

8:47am Thurs. Feb. 26th, 1998