As I sit on stairs that don't belong to me. I stare half way at the clouds and look for answers surrounded by buildings... A few church's and some houses. I raise my hands up just high enough so that I could read my palm like I reading them to prophesy to myself and openly tell my future to myself. As if my blood and my veins could tell me while their coursing through and through I was born not illegitimate and raised by a star. God found time to look at me and Im reminded Angels don't have off days... But I do. Days off to ponder and recite rehearse line by line and even the sounds the look and my own motivations and their appeal. And I am guilty. But I am guiltless of them all. All my aspirations flew away. But they come soaring backward. An I found time to believe in the notion that humans are born with wing bore into their backs and do dream dreams and carry out a purpose heavier than the majority can imagine. More positive and beautiful you can't possible believe that anyone could get that close to its glory. And I find sighs in-between my gasping a hobby inside my hoping and words that could be turned into silver around my future family all off them and even the ones that held me. I cast lots to God and all my riches because I am poor poorly and sworn by division and my prayers hurt to utter but to pray my first and last decision. There are no glorious words my mouth has spoken even in my begging. But I found blood and bones and skin and finger prints are my maps to resolution to the tangible quiet tales of I can find a journey in my imagining. The wind blows knock on these doors if only the sun would come crashing into my lamp or candles holder so I could see more i am only as bold as the reason to conclude with a brightness. My wit shapes the conquest my heart beats for in pace but still beats because I could only assume because I have yet to learn patience. And I will as I continue panting... Useless eyes of mine don't pursue to go on wanting. Unless you repent and know what it looks like to comfortably be humbly a name in the book of greater men. Yet king David sinned I am more than just a stone to be tossed into an open pond from opened palms. With guess's so full of assumptions to do away with. Call me star formed from the first last born and not from the riddles of dust we all enjoy getting rid of. I meant to mean the purest things but dance around like fools do. Or maybe I am on the brink of sanity when I do realize we and everything around me in this life as far as the eye can see is all vanity.