Another Folder

Although the folder held within my hands is emptied out
Of contents I treasured years ago, I have no doubt
Of finding another means of gaining a source of hope.

I simply place the folder on a table made of wood
And leave my home already eased in a tranquil mood
As one immune to former lies which gripped me like a rope.

The lies I left behind cannot approach my back
As I no longer walk along the wayward track
I used to take through years of blindness gone away.

I await the day for another folder to come
With a set of words which remedy senses numb
Unto a state of healing from all forms of past decay.