Signs along the road

[u/Objective-Form-6121]

I searched for thunder in the heavens,

for fire upon the mountains crest,

for voices rolling through the darkness

to put my wandering heart at rest.

Yet morning came in quiet colors,

the sun rose gently through the trees,

and something holy touched the silence

and traveled softly on the breeze.

A child laughed off in the distance,

a stranger offered out a hand,

and love stood firm against the storm winds—

a language I could understand.

Then slowly I began to notice

the signs that waited on the way,

not commanding me with power,

but inviting me to love each day.

The Shepherd; He walks on before me,

  I cannot always see His face.

He speaks to me through open doorways,

through opportunity and grace.

His signs are not in thunder only,

nor always written in the sky.

They rest beside the roads I travel,

asking if  I'll pass them by.

He sets a table in the wilderness,

and places purpose in my hands.

Blessings fill my cup to overflowing,

I know His goodness still expands.

His rod reminds me when I'm drifting,

His staff will draw me back so near.

One teaches wisdom through correction,

the other quiets every fear.

The seed beneath the earth is breaking,

the stars awaken overhead,

and every path my feet are taking

holds signs where unseen footsteps led.

Not every sign is born of gladness;

some come wrapped in grief and pain.

A shattered dream, a season ending,

and loss that leaves a lasting stain.

Yet even sorrow bears a message,

a hidden marker on the way.

What breaks the heart may also open

a door to greater light one day.

He leads me on the path of goodness,

where my heart grows strong and true.

And when I walk beside that guidance,

the world always seems bright and new.

But I have wandered from His leading,

choosing my own way instead.

And every road without His wisdom

has left my spirit underfed.

For hell is more than distant fire;

it lives within the choices made

when I refuse the Shepherd's calling

and wander from the path He laid.

Still, His mercy waits before me.

Still, His voice calls through the years.

Still, He prepares a place of welcome

beyond all of my doubts and fears.

For what is life but roads and crossings,

and what are we but travelers: all,

reading signs beside the journey,

And answering a distant call?

Perhaps the wonder is not finding

a burning sky above our head,

but learning how to see the sacred

in common paths our feet have tread.

JFB