Sliding Downhill

I’m riding my sled down a steep hill of snow;
from a distant childhood memory;
ever growing faster, the farther I go;
my thoughts are almost sensory.

I know, from memory, when I reach the end;
my father will still be there;
no matter how recklessly, I descend;
for he will always care.

For that’s how precious, the love of a Father;
no matter what happens, he’s there;
it spite of all that I become; he’ll bother;
for a loving Father, is everywhere.

But now that I’m older, and seemingly wiser;
I’m sliding downhill, once again;
my life energy, spraying out like a geyser;
I feel I’ve the mark of Cain.

How could I allow One, who’s given so much;
to drift far away, into the past?
I’ve allowed a Father, to become a crutch;
and feel him slipping out of my grasp.

In spite of it all, I’m still sliding downhill;
my end, is clearly in sight;
the Father, in spite of it, loves me still;
and, only God, can make things right.

To the Master, I’ll always be that child;
and He will forever be my Father;
to Him, I’ll never be alone, or reviled;
for, to God, I’m never a bother.

Monty 3/16/22. # 1,025