This was a poem I created in the spring while hiking at Lake Rusalka in Poznan. There was a point where I diverted from the concrete path and turned to a narrow, dirt trail. I followed this meandering way for quite some time. I stumbled upon a small stream flowing near me. Then, I stopped and looked at the filtered sunlight through the trees. That's when that inspiration, that wonder, began to flow from within: The Soul's Dawn The dawn of a new light Is my delight Water flows Tree-lined forests glow Green grasses grow My soul rests I can only attest To what is new And what can be restored From the holes of my soul.
A yarn is a piece of string. It is also a story. Tattered yarns, the stories of our lives, have the power to knit tapestries of our triumphs and tragedies.