Photo by Patricia Palma on Unsplash

 

The world is lonesome, quiet place.

Grace makes its entrance,

Softly,

On tip-toe.

Oh, to know its heart and soul.

A goal, a light, an arrow in the sky.

Why should I  resist

Or flee?

Insist on proof, aloof, and cold?

The old, the young, unsung and poor

A door to truth, a way to find.

Kind words are not enough,

The stuff of delusion, confusion, and appearance.

A clearance sale, a give-away.

Grey to bright, sight to insight.

Flight above the clouds and stars.

Jars of life,

Boxes of love,

Packages of joy.