The Mooring Slipped
As the wind blew lashes of rain across the hillside,
He lowered his head against the torrent,
Protecting his eyes, as he looked down
at their headstones.
The tempestuous weather seemed fitting,
As he came to say his final farewell.
Both his parents now gone,
Reunited in that place we will all find,
Wherever, and whatever that may be.
He felt an emptiness inside,
something ripped out of him,
A sense of having been cut loose from his roots.
Who would ground him now?
Who would show him the right path?
With so many temptations to falter,
Always easier to travel the lower road.
They had shown him the way by their actions,
No lectures or false words,
Just the leading of a good life,
the example set.
As he looked over the sea of gravestones,
He wondered which had been the good,
And which the bad.
Did it matter now, was there really any reason
for still following the good path?
Had there ever been any reason?
Now that they were gone was any of it still necessary?
Leaving them in his wake he knew he had much to consider.
Should he still follow their lead?
Or could he now give in to the lure of the seductions,
ever present, ever enticing.
As the rain pelted his furrowed brow,
He realised how simpler the choices had been,
with their worthy eyes watching over him.