THE BRONZE sLIPPERS

There at the base of the mount the feet with the bronze slippers paused

Which way? Left, right, ahead, behind

Ahead looked good with its well manicured gardens, blooms in splendour, spectacular waterways

Then again a walk left side could be covered in no time 

Behind, too plain to consider

Prior, made haste through paths with no through roads

Walkways of no consequence

Suddenly, the feet with the bronze slippers felt light, on its marks, set to go

This time with a definiteness  not had before

For the one shod with the slippers heard from behind, “this is the way, walk ye in it”

Mattered not it be considered plain

Neither that it was becoming nor trekked in no time

To the brow the bronze slippers went each stride with a knowing as the voice directed

At the peak, the feet with the bronze slippers stood amongst an outpour of benevolence

Not stumbled upon, not chanced upon

A roadmap to its aid