It is a mystery still to me;
Those to whom I fall prey;
Lost souls flock to my nest -
Though they tend not to stay.
I care for those who are weak
By feeding them strength;
I give only what I receive;
My soul has not length.
I only show them the way
To finally release and fly free;
I cannot control, although
What they choose to be.
It is only my understanding,
All I have to offer within;
With the hope one lost soul -
Will finally be able to transcend.
Copyright Beth Layne 2003
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