Stripping away the rose colored glasses of denial concerning my reality. Getting in touch with truth. Reaching out to others in empathy concerning their reality and their walk to truth.

Sunday, August 10, 2008

The Beloved

A tiny statue holds a tiny bird
Who used to speak and he was heard
Immortalized in grey-white stone
He flew away and left my home

I bid goodbye, revisit pain
And long to hear his song again
But I am sad without his tune
And will some day regard his room

Another bird might take his place
To give new song, poetic grace
So I will look to find the one
That gives me warmth, returning fun

Time will move as I research
A feathered love to end my search
The hunt involves the life I live
To help me know what I can give

~the new beloved

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