Karen
When I walk down the paths that wind
Through the canyons of my mind,
I find mystic scrolls of wishes and dreams,
Floating on Destiny’s streams.
Never shall these dreams and wishes
Be abandoned, forgotten Fishes;
But they shall be accepted,
As long as they remain wishes not granted
And dreams unachieved,
Because accepting things we cannot change is maturity as perceived
By poets of old.
Written in ink of Gold
On these mystic scrolls is a sweet name.
Karen is the name.
When I look at the Valley of Tears without a wink,
I see that all the living drink
From the Goblet of Life in which
There is a blinding sparkle, which
Overflows and leaves many deceived.
Dreams unachieved
And wishes not granted
Are but a few of the many seeds planted,
Of the Herb of Bitterness
That grows both in height and thickness,
In the Goblet of Life. Only those of the crop
That drinks from the Goblet with hope,
Shall find nourishment in the Herb of Bitterness.
Hope that, in another place – a place of happiness –,
In another time, and in another life,
The blinding sparkle in the Goblet of Life
Shall be true.
In the name of all that is just and true.
When I listen to the familiar sound
Of the anvil resound
At the Forge of Life, the human heart;
I am filled with awe by the art
Used in forging immeasurable hopes, feelings, wishes, fears, dreams, anxieties, treacheries,
And timeless memories.
Karen you are indispensable.
As part of my anvil at the Forge of Life, you are dependable –
The anvil that has given shape to my most treasured thoughts
Ever forged without faults.
Time,
The most Faithfull witness of them all,
The fairest judge of them all,
The greatest teacher of them all,
The kindest healer of the all,
And the most merciless killer of the all,
Will tell them all,
That these words I sing to you today, I mean then all,
To the end of time.
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