Here…

where the ageless hills reach upward to the ageless stars…

here where a century is measured as a day


I hold these numbered years called life within my trembling hands…

these fragile years touched with wonder and with mystery…

there seems to be so little time

in which to learn the purpose for our living…

and yet…

in the changeless pattern of things that are to be…

there must be both meaning and purpose…

or we would be insensitive to the healing power of beauty…


and the sustaining power of love…

perhaps I am here to touch but a single heart…

or to fill a single need…

or to share my strength with one who needs a shield against a hostile world…

I do not know…

perhaps it is destined that I should not know…

but another may know…

and understand…

and be grateful.

Winston O. Abbott

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Published in: on July 17, 2010 at 1:56 am  Leave a Comment  
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