Reverie

Little tattered book of scribbles,
the thought of losing you,
misplacing all my work,
my progress (impossible
for you are printed, pressed upon my soul).


Oh, despair may set in.
You are
treasured only 
by me, but
that's enough
to mark your worth


Five long years, or is it ten?
of slogging
digging
uprooting
unpacking
unearthing


Sorting
classifying
discarding
rearranging and 
selecting
what and how
I shall order my life
my thoughts
and flourish with 
all HE has given me


I love to trace the path
and marvel at its twists
and turns,
descents and then
restoration.


I see HIS hand on me
sometimes painfully
but permanently.


And I choose to accept
that this is enough.
HE and me.