A Gravel Road Called Glory

An old man once told me a story
About a gravel road called glory
In an esoteric but grand oratory
So I listened to the man so hoary

He said it was a hard road to travel
Your bare feet get cut on the gravel
Yet every step is on sacred ground
But long’s the way without a sound

Why would anyone want to go?
Why would anyone even show?
This is what I wanted to know
As I looked at the falling snow

With a twinkle in his eyes he said:

‘It’s the ending where you begin again, son
It is the path where you’ve ever just begun
And, yeah, it’s certainly a life rife with pain
But each step you take is an universal gain’

So I found that road called glory
And I have just begun my story
But I’ve walked for many miles
And have had my share of trials

And so sometimes I wonder why
Why should I even bother to try
And I stoop down low and sigh
And I lay down ‘n pray and I cry

But then I remember what he said:

‘It’s the ending where you begin again, son
It is the path where you’ve ever just begun
And, yeah, it’s certainly a life rife with pain
But each step you take is an universal gain’

And it’s been a hard road to travel
My bare feet are cut by the gravel
Yet every step is on sacred ground
Along this way that’s glory bound

Because . . .

An old man once told me a story
About a gravel road called glory
About a gravel road called glory

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7 thoughts on “A Gravel Road Called Glory

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