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Sunday, July 27, 2014


Such patterns as one would see
On a butterfly’s wings
On seashells
In the intricacies of a snowflake
Can be found
All around us
If we are but observant
What do you see?
This line of poetry
Does not rhyme today
But there is a time
For every purpose
Some time we reap
When the information
Is sewn, secured, stitched, spun
It forms a spiral social web
Everything touches
As long as one remembers
How the puzzle pieces fit
You will do fine
Unlock the door
To your secret archive
The Library which catalogues
Your innermost dreams and desires
Everything you ever learned
All your memories
Are Precious