Gentle breezes blowing,
heralding the presence of kingly mystique.
Hope is caressing the bosom of my soul and
drawing from a wealth of deposited wisdom.
Listen for that unforced rhythm
echoing across life’s valley.
Soothing bristled heart of mourning
transforming into a resplendent tuft of joy.
Who, may I ask, can perform such daring?
It is The One who holds the unknown.
A mystery better left unsolved, because in the unknowing,
One is truly known.
A Net of Hope 