Every ticking of the clock there occurs some bad or good acts they could be organized, or unkempt, yet, nothing, or no one could pre-empt our thoughts.....there's not a hint of rage just questions on being there on a big stage, called life, like a puppet...or pulling your own strings...fighting abuse when that moment is born, the fear to err...in making a vital decision to reel, when marked as a failed person,
who wants to be censured......or judged, be disheartened by an ugly smudge?
it's almost unwelcome, to hear scrutiny wary of doors shutting on you, with finality
it's hard not to hear people's words when they hit the ears and the chest.............like swords, a hostile wind.....a strange silence...are felt, loud in their echoes, ........no human heart is ever made of pelt.
faith and hope ........embolden the spirit to persist, to rise from all storms in life ...............to still exist...
when the winds blow nonstop, ............................is, i believe, God's way of fanning the fires, ........................of our will, to live, we go on breathing ...................we survive......