Raymond A. Foss Poems

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Listening for that still quiet voice
that inner calm, a certainty
A welling up of a thought, an idea
the manifestation of a dream
unspoken but heard in the
whispered places in the heart

Seeking the divine will
when there is no burning bush,
no herald angels
No bright star in the east
only panoply of choices
different paths to tread
only one of which is the maker’s
Other roads merely man’s folly
The dross of free will.

1/1/06 23:10

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