With the promise of a golden summer
I still don't know what I'm after
As the rain cleanses my soul
I can't remember what I'm doing here
But I have to say I will not run away
I listen to the elders
And resist the urge to laugh
I've been thinking of my hope for the future
As a little bird and that fateful fortune cookie
Told me not to dream because my secret has been sold
But when I stop dreaming
I will turn my pen into a sword and dash it
I won't join in your games
Just to try to ignore the opera
Don't keep telling me that
Going on like this will kill me
Even as the sunset bleeds into the lake
And you succumb to those unmentionable feelings
I know I'm right, without dreams we are nothing
Sherlyn Powell opens up about her love and devotion to her family and the overwhelming repercussion when communication breaks down. Heartbroken and distraught she learns to release her prayer and realize with faith God would reunite her family.
For a time, I perched myself on a flat rock, comparing my life with the Guyandotte River. Just as its tributaries replenish it daily, changing it in some small—sometimes great—degree, so have the day-to-day occurrences of life changed me. Like the ri
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