Where the Love-Light Gleams

As one who has spent the better portion of lengthening years in the dream-world, I may not be able to speak for all the wistful but can, at least, for me.  My heart has been bound to my dreams so that each dashing has been a bitter blow to the soul.  At the same time, I’ve known joy unspeakable in fanciful attempts at ecstasy though I never quite grasped the vaporous crown. 

Aspirations have driven me forward.  Doubtless, many of my goals have not been within my scope, but gusto has fueled my efforts.  You see, I think I can.  It’s not that I never say die, only that to quit I have to actually die.  Many times, my hand clave to the sword beyond the last drop of blood, and I’ve run many races unsure of the finish line.  I don’t expect to know everything upfront, and my willful blindness has, sometimes, led to actual blindness.  This is not to my credit, but failures don’t prove faulty logic to me and have not extinguished my light.

I saw a plaque at the Smithsonian Institute which spoke to the difficulty of defining the impossible.  Some things deemed such in times past have, in some degree, been accomplished today and some actually fulfilled.  Common experience teaches us that nothing is gained without fervor, and it is more often those who see the invisible and risk to their peril which mark the trails we follow to progress.  At least, that’s how it plays in my dreams.

It’s dangerous to dream.  Understand that you will fall in love with your visions.  They will become your true friends.  No better accompaniment will you find as they will remain through thick and thin and visit you in your sleep.  After long and fruitless days, I have rested in the arms of my nighttime companions.  They whisper to me that their days will come.

Unfortunately, you will necessarily cull before you reap.  At crossroads, you will say tearful farewells to your ideals as you realize they were not really yours to begin with.  It will not be fruitless to let go of that you have held dearly for so long as you will have learned from endeavors that which the listless never consider.  I do not want to achieve the mundane.  To me, it is better to fail at the glorious task knowing all real gains are eternal at root.  No one is a failure who has friends and proves true in difficulty.  Ask George Bailey about that one.

My thoughts have tended more to crusading than to comfort.  This may be considered a valid criticism.  The place of warmth and rest is needed and should be valued.  That place may, also, be a refuge from the wind and cover for the timid.  Sailors are needed for a voyage of uncertainty.  Many of us will not come home again.  But we remember home, and it weaves itself into our slumber.

Land of rest, for thee I sigh!  If we wear not the victor’s crown, our heads will not seek the sluggard’s pillow.  There is a place we will rest at the close of the day.  Until that time, we are comforted knowing there are places of refreshment for some.  One day, they will be ours though they appear ghostly as the desert mirage.

Let those refuse to sing who never knew our God.  Soldiers of the cross are marching to Zion. 


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