In patient figured waiting
my heart had stood beside,
the path which life had sought
to take, the hopes I  would deny.
Then fate stepped in directionless,
the map was offered, light,
as beacon of beginning;
an offering of mind.
It called in clustered memories,
for sifting, slow and sure,
and digging through deep sands,
where treasures could be drawn.
Through past and present turnings,
the way was offered up,
with futures born hermetically,
and new hopes sourced in trust.


About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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