The Book

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.