As I kneel to feel the force
a force awakens inside of me,
something akin to poetry
where the lines we write
make eyes at me.
The parable becomes the rhyme
in time
I shall
become that too.
Who knows
where life would take us?
we are the seed that grows
some wild
some not so
we grow
anyway.
Sunday is a habit
I wear like a nun
some accept
others do not
I've got
nothing to worry about
prayers are prayed
the execution is stayed
life will take us where
it will
it would still
be adventure
for me.
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 4:29 AM UTC
As I kneel to feel the force
a force awakens inside of me,
something akin to poetry
where the lines we write
make eyes at me.
The parable becomes the rhyme
in time
I shall
become that too.
Who knows
where life would take us?
we are the seed that grows
some wild
some not so
we grow
anyway.
Sunday is a habit
I wear like a nun
some accept
others do not
I've got
nothing to worry about
prayers are prayed
the execution is stayed
life will take us where
it will
it would still
be adventure
for me.
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