With a tear from my heart now bare;
Thorns and thistles now in place at rest,
The oppertunity to show you how much I care;
Dry ground hath my heart been made at best,
Now gone as the stars and moons have paired.

Yet the great weaver has not forgot;
Barron and empty this dune now goes,
The coarse thread that has been bought;
But admist the decay of sand a river now goes,
Woven by Him into beauty, beauty as one lot;
Dragging not heartache, missed oppertunities, nor sorrows,
My love be more for the Weaver as He untangles this heart's knot.

My dear and new friend...

The metaphor of the Weaver is beautiful.

I have studied poetry for many years, and write sonnets upon sonnets; I have published all sorts of classical music, all sorts of things, but nothing means anything but love. Nothing but love.

You have been so kind to me in your personal messages, for which I thank you with all my heart. Please, please, please continue to pray for Silke, as you so generously do: both for her health, and also for her safety. Please pray that she will be safe from the horrible man who is hounding and pursuing her even in the ICU, and on whose list I am the next to be attacked. Never mind about me, just pray for Silke.

In terms of critique, my friend, be very watchful of your spelling; there are a few mistakes here in that area. Also, I would avoid archaic language; I believe I saw a "hath"--just make it "has." Your poetic instincts are good though, and your heart is pure, as I know so well from your wonderful kindness to me.

Good to have you on the site.

I am eternally grateful to you for your kindness to me and prayers for Silke. Sometimes she and I feel utterly, hopelessly doomed... But you say we are not? How I hope that is true.

In any case, God bless you.