Each new dream come true
Within every lingering disappointment
Atop a smokescreen
Comes clear so beggars will see
Every new dream coming true
Rising up, shouting loud
Open caverns of bliss and light
Deserving nothing, but misfortune, maybe
Yet grace breaks in
Maybe not paralyzed
Maybe not emptied
There could be strength left in these wearied arms
Maybe not defeated
Maybe not concluded
Our story and my journey could have kept me going
Without me knowing
It’s a weaving and swirling tapestry
It makes not enough sense to me
But, it holds me so completely
You love me, so dearly
Copyright ©2004 Andrew Jack Rhodes
Andy Rhodes Poetry 