By Karen Wright
It was in the beginning of time
It was where there was no time.
My soul was alive during this time
No one whispered, no one spoke.
Our minds were one together they spoke.
It’s the warmth I feel upon my soul.
My spirit is free but still too cold.
The sun is warm against my face.
But I have no hands to embrace.
It’s to being, and not to feel.
It’s to seeing, and not to cry.
It’s to love, and not to touch
I can see the future past and present
I can make you aware, but can’t
Make you see.
Help me to explain the meaning of me.