Rhyme and rheme, nuggets of wisdom, tales of high adventure across the seas, literary treasures, the art of using the English language correctly and observations on society at large. To be read preferably with a cup of tea in hand.
If I come across distant, or seem just a little odd
Its 'cause the pieces of my heart are scattered all abroad.
Please give me time before you judge
And realize that I'm not myself;
Not wholly present, or fully here
But deficient in emotional wealth.
Each country that I visit, each name I memorize
Each place I dare to call my home, each face I recognize
Has taken a part, large or small, which I never can reclaim
Not that different from any of you, just not the same.
Each piece was freely given,
whether consciously or not,
To request them back would be far worse
Than to abide with them apart.
The strain its left on me is hardest to explain...
It kinda hurts, I'm a little sore, not worthy to complain
Cautious to become attached with my heart in short supply
Not my will or fault when you become more attached than I.
Not torn or broken or shattered
Just spread-out and dull and scattered
Dear God, I give you what's left to own,
For You and Your Glory alone.
Please allow me Your strength to love, oh God,
for the pieces of my heart are scattered all abroad.