by Donald J. Reinhardt
c. March 14, 2015
Who is the master of the soul,
how or when does it control?
Are we led by instinct,
cunning acquired in the hunt,
or in the flight?
Were you captured like we
and almost devoured,
only to escape while
death pretending?
The dark woods are full of creatures,
but none quite like him
have we encountered before.
His looks are
Wisened,
Predacious,
Cunning,
Commanding,
Demanding,
Friendly yet
UnFriendly,
Deadly.
This forest is known to us and others.
The Master seems like unto us,
almost as truly one with us,
yet he is not of us.
No, not so, we know.
We huddle, some stray,
but are always under his gaze
and we are like prey
it seems for one of our own,
for he is
The Master.
Someone broke from the pack
and was struck down.
Some strayed too far
and his strident voice called them back.
For some he seemed
as light,
to others, fog, thick mist,
and to others,
darkness and deepest night,
for he is
The Master.
Of many seasons, times
and climes is he.
We move,
reacting to his
watchful ways,
hoping for escape,
salvation,
change,
newness.
Even his signs of approval
are not comforting.
There is disquiet here,
fear of
dismemberment,
decapitation,
possession of soul.
Then, huddled one night,
we planned
and as the The Master rested in his restlessness,
We slipped away
and ran,
and ran,
and ran.
We ran together as one.
We ran as though forever.
Some fell.
Some died,
but we kept running as one
looking from this present darkness
for the light and warmth of sun.
We ran in panicked frenzy through these woods.
We saw many places
and many ways to go and turn,
but we ran straight ahead as one herd
for fear of the the chase and scream of
The Master.
Rumbling footsteps and pounding hoof beats
now echo off the canyon walls
and we hear and see
running water of a crystal pure river
and we see other
beasts like us.
Happy beasts,
Joyful beasts,
But we run on.
There are bright trees
and quiet shady places
as we slow our pace.
We look and turn
and survey the quiet
as the other beasts
come to look and see.
They sense our fear
and hurt.
They comfort us
with their good presence
and then we see
Their Master.
Magnificent,
Mighty,
Beautiful,
Radiant,
Undaunted,
Knowing,
Caring,
We came to rest
that day
in this holy place
knowing
the other Master
shall never reign here.
This Master,
This herd,
This flock,
These friends
will see to that.
And in that day
we became
a new breed with a
New Master,
a new birth,
a new life,
and it was
more than enough
for any beast.
Postscript:
This tale, story or dream-vision was written on a both sides of an 8.5 x 11 typing paper February 19, 1986 - almost 30 years ago. It remained until just a few days ago, tucked among other notes and papers which I was perusing and overseeing when suddenly there it was as a surprise to see and a remembrance. This small thought piece had survived amidst mounds of paperwork of many types. I smiled to think how often we forget simple yet important things. The writing here is almost as the original with some changes. You can judge for yourself whether it should have ever seen the light or day or should have remained among those other obscure papers, one day to be decayed into nothingness or discarded. Needless to say, I found it an interesting and worthwhile piece to publish for the Internet crowd, who frequently wander far and wide - sometimes through deserts, or forests, savannahs, plains or even occasionally right up to the highest peaks and mountaintops. It is my wish that one day everyone may find true, joyful, quiet places of love, peace and grace where they may be shepherds or be shepherded. Peace be unto you.
