The Worry Worm....

'worry', just a little word,
but what a mess you can create....all by yourself!
You take a situation and saturate it with doubt and fear,
then cause unrest and troubled mind
just by drip feeding thoughts that stress.

As each thought adds to the cauldron of despair,
those worries add in to the brew and soon, before you know it,
you've lost the way to go,
for worry clouds the mind, stops action dead in its tracks,
and takes away the satisfaction of dealing with the challenges you'll find.

Worry niggles, pushes and pulls, and whispers deep in your heart,
chipping away your faith and confidence,
until tears spill...and sleep is lost
and the smile is gone.

So, what has worry gained?
what was its purpose here?
why has it worked so hard to make you feel so drained?

Does it delight in all your pain?
does it thrive through sapping your energy?
does it feed on all the negativity?
and does it desire a broken spirit, so it may live again?

And for you...what do you get in return for its visit?
what gift does it bring to thank you for its stay?
what promise for the future does it offer as it worms deeper and deeper on its way?

Do you know....I can think of nothing that worry will bring for you,
no hidden gift, no lovely surprise,
no laughter in your eyes.

For worry is a selfish guest, he stays as long as he may,
to take, to break, to tear, to fear,
to do what he does best,
to bring you down and lose your hope of success, in each and every way.

But worry can not linger in a heart that lets in hope,
and worry is turned away, when faith is allowed to grow.
It cannot survive when positivity and action together, push worry aside,
it dies and shrivels, it cannot worm and thrive inside.

Of course it is not that easy, to just up and push worry right out
it'll fight and resist to get its own way
but love and peace will restore the calm as 'what will be will be'; we bravely face
and worry will be firmly put away
as tomorrow, the future we embrace.

Butterflies

Once upon a time a fairytale came true...

and I met you....

The butterflies dance and waltzed

and I was entranced...

wondrous at the somersaults they made deep within.

But, as you came, you went as quickly

and the butterflies lay still, and wept.

Their tears stinging as the winters rain,

and in time with no dancing to do, they slept,

a fitful sleep as hope was killed by pain.

Time passed and sleeping butterflies awoke

recognising anticipation and the joy of hope,

but it was in truth an illusion,

no love returned, no cause for dance,

for all this pretender brought was confusion.

So, how long can butterflies survive?

Feeding alone on hope and the promise of love?

But, as these dwindle and diminish

do they too perish?

Or are butterflies encapsulated in a vial for eternity,

dancing so quietly, not even I can notice?

Yet I crave their speed, their grace, their joy

as they flit around and make me gasp.

Can another love ignite their dance?

Will there be in time a breaking free

of butterflies celebrating joy in me?