Guardians watch over me; recycled patrons who fulfill a penitent destiny all of their own. Appointed sentinels of vigilant plight, adequately defending each dubious choice. Caretakers who gently nudge me in this direction, or that, knowing all the while that my deliberations may impede both our treks to some final destination. They commit to me daily, often more zealous in their prudent regard than I may notice. Scrupulously, they weigh my resolve, knowing my strengths, my weakness, my inexperience, compared to their own. I cannot see, or touch, or hear their righteous presence, but I feel them there in God's brilliant plan of breeding and birth… |
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