Cobalt crystals line the driveway to my dreams
I seek sages to tell me what that might mean
And they tell me
Child, be still, seek peace,
You must only seek secret ways
To riverbanks and trees
Birds that sing praises of heroes unsung who still sing.
Wrapped in the wings of something holy,
The nest now a whisper of a memory.
Grace will move when she’s ready,
You must only wait.