Subtle promptings seem to guide,
faint suggestions slip fleeting by.
I sense a breeze, a breath of life,
that pulls me to a dear heart’s sigh .
Eyes that look are dry and clear,
yet in their depths there lies deep fear.
A faint ephemeral wisp of hope,
it stirs within, disguised – alone.
No one can see, no one does feel,
yet Spirit strength bends in to heal.
To see beyond the chic facade,
and wrap a heart in arms of love.
An entity profound does live,
within the reach of those who stretch.
They grasp at hope in spite of dread
and meet the one whose hands died red.
Those red hands come embraced in me.
Warm love ignites those eyes once dead.
Real life made near by Love divine,
stirs laughter’s spring where anguish dreamed.
Author – Bill Tidsbury