THE STARS, THEY ARE MY TAPESTRIES

THE STARS, THEY ARE MY TAPESTRIES

This precious earth is my domain,
The sky my personal canvas,
The stars, they are my tapestries.

And as I walk in the sacred darkness
Of a morning that has not been born,
The birds are sweet traveling minstrels,
Bewitching with their lovely songs.

I collect my thoughts like stamps or coins,
This meditation is my avocation
And with all of Nature I feel joined,
My life’s rejuvenation.

And all that I hold dear is represented here,
The friendships I hold as rare as gold.
My memories of my parents,
My lover’s voice whispered in my ear
Just before we turn out the lights.
All the sounds and all the sights
Of this wondrous and mysterious life.

A life that must not pass unexamined or untended,
Like gardeners we must prune and trim,
Before we pass through this world of man.
A world that fades and slips away,
As quickly as sand, sifting in a small child’s hands.

This precious planet blows a gentle morning breeze.
I walk beneath the welcome sky, the stars my glimmering tapestries.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2008
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED