Steal a whisper from the breeze – wipe your shoes at the threshold
of Father Time; the embrace of Mother Nature bosoms over my gaze,
nourishing me with the vivid picture of life yearning for sustenance.
As a wailing child, wrap me in the blanket of my dreams; my sheets
stained with yellow – don’t label me as yellow, for I despise
being ******.

Capture a flair in a brushstroke – the delicate arch of an eyebrow,
lifted at the sight of the Cross; “I still ponder how,” they criticized the
woman who dried His feet with her hair – she must have been bold.
Now, resting at the foot of the Cross; I must be wise to take down
those footnotes.

Lend a smile from a tear – grinning through the pain, the ache of
existence is merely this relentless cycle within the machinery of time.
A lavish timepiece; cherish all that you have at hand; and arm your resolve to fulfil His Will.