The sound of my footsteps; a hoping guidance to faith
My sound of breath teaches this blackness I’m alive in fate
The echoes tell me the journey is deep and far from over
My eyes, a drunken blind man, I feel far from sober
Skin is dry and cold, a symptom of no light
But though I’m driven by some divine force to fight
In my mind I ponder, what will the world think if I fail?
In my heart I wonder, how will it feel when I prevail?
This task of greatness shakes my guts
No choice now, I am no more men in huts
I hear drops of past storms telling stories of Maverick
The devil’s poetry, devious and mesmeric
My damp shoes are cold feet, at times I miss Mother’s towel
No more excuses, comfort zone of being fatherless
I continue reciting Tunnel…
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 4:18 AM UTC
The sound of my footsteps; a hoping guidance to faith
My sound of breath teaches this blackness I’m alive in fate
The echoes tell me the journey is deep and far from over
My eyes, a drunken blind man, I feel far from sober
Skin is dry and cold, a symptom of no light
But though I’m driven by some divine force to fight
In my mind I ponder, what will the world think if I fail?
In my heart I wonder, how will it feel when I prevail?
This task of greatness shakes my guts
No choice now, I am no more men in huts
I hear drops of past storms telling stories of Maverick
The devil’s poetry, devious and mesmeric
My damp shoes are cold feet, at times I miss Mother’s towel
No more excuses, comfort zone of being fatherless
I continue reciting Tunnel…
K.Penmanship
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