A hand … reaches
Pandora’s last hope, in open palm.
It’s all about love and peace,
she taught and, teaches still
tho’ her stone is mute, cold.
her thoughts are there in the ether now
in up and downward spirals.
On repeated prayers and gasp of air
which leave and then fan outward.
Become yet more ethereal strings as
butterfly wings which set
leaves on the bough to tremble
from anticipated thrill
and then traverse through living veins
sending welcome shivers to the brain
from that translucent touch.
Eyes are windows to the soul
I saw yours in those pools
can I forgive, again.
Would I have enough right stuff to become
another viable tower of strength
when I’m so tired of it all.
If I am love…
Somewhere deep within
(where I store my book of days)
through the endless nights
One day I may write
that yes, I forgave you
on a silent, Autumn breeze.
© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved
Some thoughts on how Mother Teresa helped influence our world
and some other thoughts wanting to be said.
It is not about being submissive nor, weak.