Bury me under the waves, that I may feel it pulsating, if not in my veins.
Lift me to the clouds, that I may be rendered at peace, if not in my thoughts.
Incarcerate me in fire, that I may learn to feel, if still my frozen heart beats.
Plant me with a seed, that I may blossom through the winter chills, if I have not strength.
Above all, tell me I am real.
Be it that I am a figment of God’s imagination.
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 12:06 AM UTC
Bury me under the waves, that I may feel it pulsating, if not in my veins.
Lift me to the clouds, that I may be rendered at peace, if not in my thoughts.
Incarcerate me in fire, that I may learn to feel, if still my frozen heart beats.
Plant me with a seed, that I may blossom through the winter chills, if I have not strength.
Above all, tell me I am real.
Be it that I am a figment of God’s imagination.
