Flying my kite,
as I search for lost hope.
Hope flies too high,
tug its transparent rope.
Rope made of thorns,
that cuts straight at my hands.
Hands feel so scorned,
as my knowledge expands.
Expands power,
I kept hidden inside.
Inside the tower,
where my energies hide.
Hide the ego,
I refuse to accept.
Accept, light flows,
while dismissing the rest.
The rest fills needs,
in this balancing act.
Acts without greed,
ensures love will attract.
Attract new paths,
opening many roads.
Roads to success,
destinations unfold.
– Grace Y. Estevez-Reddy