8/7/2019 0 Comments To the Terminally IllThis is the poem I wrote as a child,
when I was meeting with my grandmother to say our goodbyes. She was in bed, at home, not going to last the night, due to cancer. To The Terminally Ill (Delta Magazine Fall 1996) One who creates beauty is a poet. The truth of the world lies in the secrets of happiness which comes from the heart; where would one start to make love's inner rhythms unfurl into explainable thoughts that show what is bliss even when our lifeline has knots? When people stray as they progress they must back up and repress the problem which is a sign of a need for specific improvement. It is wise to be happy and to hold on to what o ne has-- to be thankful for wisdom and the importance it casts, for whatever knowledge we gain in each of our lives there are always surprises and changes to be prized. When something is missing or something goes wrong that is our opportunity to make ourselves strong.
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AuthoRDonald R. Anderson. Aspiring writer. Amateur philosopher and amateur writer of Apologetics (i.e., the Catholic reasonings). Faith-driven kindred spirit. Archives
April 2020
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