Email Poem

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Poem

I found this little book 
inside my heart, much
to my surprise – in a place
secure, for faithful, searching
eyes...apparently having long
been there – a safe-space of refuge,
free from sighs – an inner garden:

no perennial blooms, that perk and
rest, as sunlight and moons lift our
spirits like April Blooms, till
the winter's chills, though a
tolerable season of icy glooms – 
some, of our specie
more inclined to adjust and
make best – put on skis, and 
flip with fond zest...not willing
to succumb to our earth's seeming
recurring duress – 

A place one finds nurture
and spiritual delight – free from
daily cares replete with despairs;
where the book came from – 
God alone knows, and perhaps
none of my affairs; yet, filling me
with a sense, it was mine
to someday find – and then,
read to others, a blessed mission 
to truthfully boast and share;  I opened
it up...and low and behold,
sealed on the first page, was a
heart of gleaming gold. Solid gold,
seeming shiny and new.
Of course, I already knew, that
gold never tarnishes, just
the metals with which it is
mixed – and who would have
thought, on a book's first page
one would find, such a precious 
thing affixed – a book of hope – 
a book for all life? I pondered 
thus refining even more – how
tarnishing mixtures gold needed
if to strengthen into shapes, 
precious forms that endure – I thought of
my world, and my metals of strife – 
thought of all my blemishes...those
I've spent seeming an eternity 
from myself and others trying to hide...
and thought, maybe, I should have, all along, 
not cursed them but blessed them – perhaps,
treasuring my obvious imperfections, as well 
as my golden side.

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