To my sister

You are a temple for lost souls,

Who seek not scripture but rest.

For your doors are never closed

And spring runs childishly about.


And when the harsh winds of winter

Come bellowing from the North,

They are tempered in their shame,

Settling in their youth, beneath your eyes.


Life will not find your secret,

As she is blind to her self.

Though time will remember your refuge,

And forever find you, his rest.


For what is left…

You will never be blinded, for you see through the eyes of my faith.
You will never feel lost, for you walk through the gardens of my wonder.
You will never know cold, for you wear the garments of my soul.
You will never meet thirst, for you have the pools within my eyes.
You will never lose breath, for you are carried in the winds of my spirit.
You will never speak with pain, for you live within the temple of my prayer.
You will never aqcuaint hunger, for you dine on the essence of my dreams.

And you will never be alone… if you can settle for what is left.