Scattered

Scattered thoughts fall all around,

like leaves coming down from the trees.

Softly floating falling in disarray

with no path to follow.

Caught on the whim of the wind

they blow where they may.

Leading down many paths 

gliding on their way

To the soft earth they land

dead, brown, dying still.

In their blowing and path of 

flight can you note the rest?

The leap of faith made to the wind

that catches and buffets them in wild abandon.

In a flight path with no meaning except to pass

it on to the earth where in dying it gives life.

Can we make these leaps of faith falling?

To be blown by Spirit that indwells

intending to land us on solid ground

where one thing dies and is born in something new.

Developing new patterns through the

midst of a confusing free fall.

Oh, but to let go and be taken on the wind.

Floating confusingly lightly on the wings of current.

Toward the ground of new possibilities born

on the flight down, to be able to let go in

free fall is faith.  Do we have enough

to let go and fall to ground.