Those who fall,
Are like one wind,
Swimming like mist,:
Wanting for a touch, a fingertip,
But ghostlike, they wander,
Seeking that light,
That release,
Into the sanctuary of love.

We often fall, fail;
Wandering, wanting for a touch,
A helping hand to find us,
And save us from our own pity.
Dreams fuel us, denials bind us,
So we seek the light, the vision,
To free us to love again.

© Tom Stanley