Sometimes I think of Abraham *
How one star he saw had been lit for me *
He was a stranger in this land *
And I am that, no less than he *
And on this road to righteousness *
Sometimes the climb can be so steep *
I may falter in my steps *
But never beyond Your reach
Its many limbs Finger the cold sky, rising Out of the mist on my approach Till, sharp, They stand like dancers frozen in a pose, Arms lifted In praise of the sun's Fog-filtered orb - a cold Ball of silent fury.
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