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The Master - Captivity and The Journey - One Short Story

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






Friendly yet



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,




Even his signs of approval

are not comforting.

There is disquiet here,

fear of



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

Clearlivingwatersrefresh,renew,rebirthcreaturesandcreation Appledust

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

Friendlybeastsinthebrightforestlookatus Retirez

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.








We came to rest

that day

in this holy place


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.

TheGoodMaster,theGoodShepherdlaysdownhislifetoprotectandsavehisflock. Unknown


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.