Looking, forever wistfully, through a
kolidiscope that ends with the river's
twirlling light, intersecting with nature.
Wanting, in some small way, to know
there is a reason for the wind,
but feeling a stronger pull towards
the nebulus one that awaits, and knows me well.
Knowing that Somewhere in between these places
there are children who need and a self unsure,
I live and hope that meaning will
come with waves of self forgiveness for what I have not yet done....
Grant that I may not judge my niegbor until I have walked a mile in his moccasians
Native American prayer
[This message has been edited by christies heart (edited 03-21-2000).]