A poem written by a dear friend...


Returning

It's to you I return once more, sweet singer
of my soul, little child, holiest Mystery.
May you pour forth always, joyful and clear,
a gaily running brook or dancing fountain.

Nothing this world can boast--neither fame
nor fortune, praise nor bread, could equal
your innocence, or replace your simplicity.
I'd rather die than know that you were dead.

It's to you I return once more, secred lover
of my heart, little child, sacred Miracle.
May you flourish always, tender and real,
a fruitful, nurturing tree, a shading pool.

Whatever I do, whatever I hope to be, you
are my Source, My Light, my Song, my Home.
Beyond the danger of the nights, the struggle
of the days, may all my paths return to Thee.


***

Bob Savino -- 8/9/99