I talked to a three-legged dog today
on my daily walk (his name was Max) and he said,
seeing clearly my predicament
and obviously more learned than I,
"It's one thing to walk in the valley,
but do not seek or take advice there;
it will ruin more than just your own life,
but that of those closest to you as well."
I remembered this because his words were so frank
as if he spoke from the experience
of a life devastated for a friend's betrayal
or just as possibly, his own.
I looked back, down on the valley,
and wondered which footprints were my own:
were they the ones urging higher ground,
with quicker, heavier strides,
or were they the ones close beside
fading quickly in the winds of lost memories?
Looking back again, I feel a deep regret,
though not for walking where I did
and not even for my own decisions.
I find it easy to see distortions and sprites
distracting me from this narrow path
while I look through these teary eyes,
but the one thing that always guides me,
whether I follow immediately or dally first,
is the voice of Thunder.
And though His voice roars more audibly than any,
those smaller than Him and far from his glory
choose still not to hear or try to shout louder
their own agenda, simpler than His
though much more treacherous
as to be even eternally fatal.

Max visited me from time to time
after our introduction, and he taught me
more of the lessons he'd come upon
while walking in the light.
He told me one day, as the sun was high,
"When you speak of things with passion,
speak softly; this is important
and takes more strength than any mortal has.
You'll find it gets your point across
and you're less likely to anger
those to whom you speak.
Anger, after all, is a bias in itself,
and it won't likely swing your way.
More important than this, however,
is speaking from labored, long studied wisdom.
To rant on with shallow-rooted passion
about politics as dictated to you
by your proud finger-pointing friends
is to walk into your final exam room
after skipping every class, reading no books,
and armed only with the studious notes from
last night's poker game discussion.
I've made such proud statements," he said,
"boasting my 'intelligence' at a young age;
it even made me quick friends,
though it quickly made me enemies.
I found out just as quickly
how much wiser were my new enemies
than those bandwagon friends."
He sighed for the first time I'd seen,
eyes distanced and darker for a moment.
He returned quickly and declared:
"Loyal friends aren't hard to find;
it's the ones loyal to your heart,
and more importantly, loyal to your faith
which you should cherish;
for they're the truest of friends
given, not found, only as gifts of grace." [unfinished]