Eight Hundred Pieces Of My Heart

Of these words I utter which glide on the pallid page below.

Oh, of these thoughts; this weaning of my heart; my soul.

How come they again from the tattered spirit and of simple a mind.

For though these thoughts now sputter and moan, they mark yet another milestone in my day; my time.

Come now almost five years I have shared with all this, my inner most soul.

I have written of burdens which my eyes do see; I have seen too many come and go.

I have made friends with quite a few through this the passing of our age.

I have felt both their sorrow and joy; I have wept in secret unknown for days.

Oh eight hundred pieces of my heart have I shed for the world to see.

Eight hundred pieces when sewn together…make this man…ME.

J. Allen Wilson © 10/2007