Poetry 3
(c) Candace
When I feel small, alone, weak and insignificant
Overwhelmed by a world that seems to not care
I reach for the silken threads that surround me
Touching the invisible web I know to be there
Linked not by blood or vocation or even age
Tied by a strong silken thread that we can feel
Bound together by our hearts and our souls
And by a truth, in our heart, we know to be real
The truth that all creatures great and small
Are all a part of the creator's great plan
That each possess a heart, spirit, and soul
And that each is an equal part of the land
It is within this circle of kindred hearts
I can find solace and a place to heal
Knowing here it is safe to bear my soul
In the company of others who feel as I feel
In the quiet corners of my life I feel you
Always hovering - always near
There, but not there, just out of my view
A comfortable companion
I've noticed you for a while and wondered
were you cause for fear or hope
I've wondered if my thoughts were heard
Or if you were aware of me at all
Are you my memories lingering to haunt me
with wishes I cannot make true
Are you Time standing there just to taunt me
Echos of the past and the future
With the passage of time as I begin to heal
and memories become warm and sweet
I realize that you are my lost one's love I feel
Bidding me hope as they watch over me.
In the quiet corners of my life I feel you
Alway hovering - always near
There, but not there, just out of my view
A comfortable companion
Loving, watching, caring.
Gossamer wisps of thoughts,
Hopes for things that yet may be.
Guard these fragile tendrils carefully
for in this world they are treasures.
Dreams are the secrets we need keep only for ourselves,
for once known the world conspires to crush them.
Too delicate, too fragile, too beautiful.
As is always the case any creation
We are all but the sum of our parts
The bits of life we have accumulated
Those events engraved on our hearts
We are a reflection of those events
The day to day happenings we see
The creator has used to shape us
Into the person he wants us to be
All that will be has long been penned
Written in our book by his own hand
He asks not that we understand it all
But know all has been carefully planned
