On the ground lies a track for a train
Meant to carry travelers and loads of grain.
Tracks can be spotted in soft golden sand.
Gently, they are washed away by Oceanís hand.
It is clear to view tracks in the snow,
Gracefully made by a brown spotted doe.
Sometimes we travel on a wrong track,
Trying desperately to find our way back.
Back to a place where we long to be
Walking on a path where the blind can see.
See the course set from Heaven to Earth
And the prints of those that believe on His birth.
We can walk on this track and finish this race
With a strong faithful heart and a smile on our face.
2 Timothy 4:7
I have fought a good fight,
I have finished my course,
I have kept the faith.
Julie Pisacane © 2004
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