Quicksand

So innocent, no warning given

A surface so level and alluring

An easy path through briars and bracken

To weary feet the way seems to beckon.

A long and tiresome journey

Wishing greener hills to see

Setting out with a compass so true

A clear trail below the sky above so blue.

With steady cadence and energy aplenty

Stride after stride marks the progress

A steady pace that gobbles up the miles

Making light of the journey’s trials.

An open glade, free of all entanglements

Appears before this lonely traveller

Beckoning with promises to hasten

This last and final stretch to lessen.

Ah, but for this, just one misstep

From a path so clearly drawn for you

A faltering foot leads from the trail

Sinks or’e a boot withdrawn to no avail.

Unseen hands reach up to firmly grasp

This unwary treasure to take it down

To mix with jumbled bones of others

Drawn into the miry trap that smothers.

Quicksand, this water-laden patch of ground

Seems set to drag another victim down

To wrap wet clinging arms more firmly round

And claim another traveller home-ward bound.

By fate, by chance or God’s good providence

A traveller passing by has seen the struggle

U who sees his duty clear

Extending a hand and offering aid draws near.

A very near thing which might have gone this way or that

But for the grace of this passing lone Samaritan

Both breathe a sigh, gaze round the land

And consider the vagaries of sand.

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