Promises Are Lies Wrapped In

After It's All Over, The Early Childhood, A Chain Of Birthdays Woven With Candlelight, Piles Of Presents, Voices Of Relatives Singing And Praising Your Promise And Future, After The Years Of Schooling, Fitting Yourself Into Different Size Desks, Memorizing, Reciting, Reporting, And Performing For Jury After Jury Of Teachers, Counselors, And Administrators, You Still Feel Inadequate, Alone, Vulnerable, And Naked In A World That Can Be Unforgiving And Terribly Demanding.

You Trap Yourself Sometimes, By Thinking Desire And Need Is Love. Love Is Something Far More Precious, But Something Far More Fragile. As Fragile As One Of Our Tiniest, Most Intricate, Most Delicately Crafted Toys. Hold On To It Too Tightly, And It Will Crumble On Your Fingers, But Hold On To It Loosely, And The Wind Might Blow It Away And Shatter It On The Cold Ground. Listen To The Voice Comes From Your Heart, But Be Absolutely Sure The Voice Comes From Your Heart.

Patience. I Colored Patience Gray, Hung Over With Black Clouds. I Colored Hope Yellow, Just Like The Sun We Could See For A Few Short Morning Hours. Too Soon The Sun Rose High In The Sky & Disappeared From View, Leaving Us Bereft And Staring At Blue.

The Creative Genius Begins In The Idle Moment, Dreaming Up The Impossible, And Later Making It Come True.

Dreams, I Thought. They're The Riches Of A Poor Person, Stashed In Treasure Chests Buried Deeply In The Imagination. But Are Dreams Enough?