The lines of his face are the map of his soul.

They say not where, but how he has lived his life.
Less old than tired, more traveled than parked.

This map serves as a beacon to all those that take the time to look.
And, if one is willing to ask,
he receives the precious treasure that he doesn’t even know he seeks.

But most walk on by, not realizing the riches they pass.
Though glorious, society regards him as waste and his map too arduous to consider.

But I love the moments I spend with him.
I love the light in his eyes as he remembers when and who.

I would be lost without his map. And I’d not be thankful for my own,
regardless of how deep the trenches may run north to south and east to west.

For those trenches tell more than a story.
They guide you into the depths of my ever distant heart.

I’m still learning to read maps. I owe my friend for that gift.
And one day, by the strength of grace,

I’ll be comfortable enough to stare into the mirror of my soul
-and see where the road goes from here.

 
© Chad Hollingsworth

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