TALISMAN

 The rough rock path
Worn to a V by worshipful throngs
Meanders like confused pilgrims
Over this fragile island face.

 As I trace the way, I meet them–
Fellow-seekers, and nod
My head in recognition.
I see the peaceful pleasure in them
That I searched for, found,
And hold again.

 Holy touchstone, worry rock,
Portal to faith, we are here,
Acolytes in time and space,
Sure of your force,
Your constant, timeless solace.

 Gus Bombard