Tapestry of Dreams

Tapestry of Dreams

written by: Ginny M. Jones

In the whispers of the heart’s gentle call,
Lies a map of dreams, a purpose to enthrall,
Gifts from above, like stars in the night,
Guiding our journey with their radiant light.

Each dream, a signpost, divinely imbued,
Leading us toward destinies true if pursued,
Yet life’s tempests and shadows conspire,
To veer us astray from our heart’s true desire.

Once gleaming hopes, like treasures untold,
Lit our path with joy, a future to unfold,
Yet as the years weave their way through time,
Mournful whispers enter the tapestry their rhyme.

The dreams once held high, like feathers aloft,
Now seem to drift away, like petals that waft,
Regrets of neglect, like thorns in the soul,
That garden of passions has taken the toll.

But within this sorrow, a lesson takes root,
For desires once cherished refuse to stay moot,
In the tapestry’s threads, their essence remains,
A reminder of purpose, despite earthly strains.

Grieve not the dreams that seem distant and gone,
For they’ve etched their mark, as the dawn paints the morn,
Though age may advance, and paths may divert,
The heart’s map of dreams is your gift to assert.

Rekindle the flames, breathe life to the past,
The desires still linger, their spirit steadfast,
And as seasons transform, and wisdom imparts,
Embrace their sweet memory, igniting new starts.

The journey’s not over, the story’s not done,
Desires once bloomed can again see the sun,
With each step we take, with each beat of the heart,
Our purpose unfurls, a masterpiece of art.

So mourn not those dreams that you thought slipped away,
For their essence endures, casting light on today,
And as age paints its strokes, with grace intertwined,
Your heart’s true desires in your soul you will find.

For the desires of the heart, like stars in the night,
Illuminate the path, as you seek out your light,
In the tapestry of life, they’re woven and spun,
Guiding you ever toward the purpose begun.

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• About
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Ginny M. Jones

I have always been a writer, letting my thoughts and emotions spill out on paper where I can express myself in a way I can’t do verbally. Perhaps because some things are too difficult to verbalize. Some things you can’t bear to say out loud. Once they’re given voice they become living extensions of ourselves. So, at a young age, I began to write. I wrote in notebooks and on notebooks. On scraps of paper and abandoned napkins. My mother saw this and bought me a journal for my birthday one year. I remember flipping through those blank pages envisioning my words written on them, thinking that now, finally, I could say some things! I'm still saying some things.

Latest posts by Ginny M. Jones (see all)

• Betrayal’s Despair - September 19, 2024
• Riddle Me This! - June 14, 2024
• Tapestry of Dreams - March 9, 2024