The Room of My Soul

In the room of my soul, there are arched windows.

Made of stone, they crumble a bit.

But the windows frame the ever changing landscape.

I keep an eye on the important details.

As the shadows shift

Day, Night,

Summer and Winter

Are gloriously displayed in their whirling dance.

I can see the broody sky,

and the sweeping hills below.

My Guardian angel like the breeze

hovers over my life.

Ready at my aid, eager to help.

But for now, just sending blessings on my head saying,

“Rest,rest,rest and be still now”.

Could I be this cherished, precious, valuable?

Perhaps, yes!

Though it seems I am only a butterfly with tattered wings.

I find in my doorway a tentative harmony,

A soulful dialogue, a childlike prayer.

Full of hope

Like those Monarch Butterflies

weaving patterns in the air.

Robust little messengers.

The room of my soul,

contains all of the little details of my time here

Woven together, hammered together

Painted and furnished by me

Yet held with miraculous hands.

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