A troubled weary soul am I
Seated and staring into the distance
Gazing through the window of hope
I sometimes see the realm of possibility
Of what can be
But too often I lose focus
And find myself staring at my own reflection
At my present state and all that is behind me
This is what happens when I look at the glass of hope
At it and not through it

There are those few moments when I see clearly through the glass
I marvel at the greatness of potential
Like a seed waiting to be planted in the soil of life
Longing to germinate and take root and grow
I see that life is weighed down with opportunity
I see my life dripping with purpose not yet realized
Purpose that is still to be grasped and wrestled with
Purpose that seeks me out
Purpose that embraces others
I see that my purpose in life is mine
Mine but not for me

Yes I do see clearly sometimes
But the hand of circumstance gets hold of my mind and heart
The urgency of the “here and now” and “me and mine” can cloud ones vision
It often does you know
So I soon gather these grand thoughts and tie them up
Like a few sticks of dry wood ready for the fire
I lay them in the corner of my mind
And find myself gazing once again
At the glass not through it