by John G Evans

Created on: September 30, 2009

As I look - beyond the rags of a tattered soul,

tired and weary from forty years

of wandering within the hidden desert

of your parched dear soul,

where the lovely "Lilly of the Valley blooms,"

nourished, by the secret dew of angels - and, of God

resting in your eternal depths of wealth

the treasure I see that is you!

You and I dear one -

are artists and poets when allowed,

passionately feeling the sacredness of the written word,

and the salt of tears recieved

as you accept a broken man of contemplative dust

as your secret friend, we two

share and sense the divinity of the sacred curvings

of each petal, each bloom, each vine or each heart we touch...

desiring more from the depths who are called we,

and yet - you have no home...

but the streets and parks

of an unknown town, but yet

your delightful song of love is in my heart

and as I have come to know you, dear one

I ask you -

please sweet one,

take my hand in the spirit of love and friendship,

where I cry out

Yes! I say -

my little voice from heaven,

I love you!

and I ask as well...

everytime you search out your back-pack

I pray you will always come to know dear love,

you are finally free, and

in my heart, I say

You are finally home!

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