Light at the Edges
A light in the attic. Just one. Bright in the center,
growing dim as you move to the edges.
And yet, it is at the edges the treasures lie.
About this poem
Not the poem I intended to write. But often the poem I need to write overcomes my intentions. I love poetry. The spirit at work.
A poem about living a life of love in a dark world. About personal ministries. About love in the hard times. About politics at its best. Poetry is never about one thing. Neither are my thoughts.