In times of difficulty I have often felt emotion with
no guiding thought on an idea to write. At this time
I have been greatly concerned with the health of a friend,
and the mother of another friend has just passed away. In
a morning break at work with no one to talk with I
picked up a pen. This is what I wrote.
Where are dreams
bred?
Is it in the heart or
head?
The head knows how
birds fly,
And why bells can
ring,
The heart knows joy,
And reasons why to
sing.
The head can see
little,
Giving reasons for
doubt,
And doubts lead to
fears,
Blocking answers out,
The heart knows
things unseen,
And the freedom to
answer anything.
All things are
unreal,
Being born from
nowhere,
Electrons holding
hands,
They are mostly thin
air.
Yet all things
important,
And all which is
true,
Have one thing in
common,
They all come from
you.
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