Walking Ahead - Poetry
Lit with a glow,
A glimpse unknown,
A tale from the beginning,
Hard to weave around.
Eternal were the dreams,
It was a woven thread,
Around the same tree,
Unsure yet of the end.
There can be no action,
On the deeds that brought it,
Yet a casual glance at the past,
Is a delightful feeling.
A secret connection,
One that might be only a journey once,
Into the deep woods,
Yet,
Maybe might be welcomed.
Dreams of actions,
Needs redemption,
For belief is dead,
Only hope remains.