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A Firm Foundation

Not much remains of an old stone house near the shores of Willow Lake, Prescott, Arizona.

Around the stone foundation, weeds and grasses grow.
Somewhere in the distance, I hear a mocking crow:
“You thought your house would stand here for all eternity,
But it has turned to rubble, as you can clearly see.”
I turn from the foundation in sorrow and in grief;
The crow and its bleak message have brought me no relief.
I seek a weeping willow, and there I make my bed,
And let the willow’s tresses cool my fevered head.
Revived, refreshed, and ready, I plan another house
A place to welcome strangers, and even the stray mouse.
Upon a firm foundation, I’ll build my house anew;
It will be a resting place for pilgrims just like you;
A place where song and laughter bind humans each to each,
In bonds that can’t be broken by hurtful, hate-filled speech.
And when the journey’s over, and day has turned to night,
My house on its foundation will still be shining bright.


Poem and photo © by Magical Mystical Teacher