.
And I sit there
All ear, head to feet
Dear
Listening to his footsteps
As if a Santa Clause waiting for his deer
Painting his majesty
Through defenceless eyes' pastels
Asking for aid,
O' holy hands
There, hassles
I see a purple heart
Hiding blue dropes of hopes
as if a mask was to keep my face look like mokes
Over the balcony
Amongst the trees
Saw a friendly shadow
Of my ever lasting companion, on knees
O' Thy honor sir black hat gray shadow!
Real illusion, of whom art thee?
Chasing me through the looking glass balcony
Never mind, promise, not to miss a symphony...
.
Farzaneh.Qāf

Lucy looks at her alarm eight times before it’s bed.
Mark can’t meet new people without a pounding in his head.
Fred gets sad on weekends,
And Molly cries a tonne
But Becky’s head keeps her awake until she sees the sun.

Robert doesn’t wake until early afternoon.
Mary let’s herself jump to conclusions far too soon.
Barney’s always manic,
And Ginger talks too quick
But Johnny only sees a crowd to make himself feel sick.

Today I may be Robert.
Tomorrow I am Fred.
But right now I am all of these and they are in my head.

I don't have religion
I have a relationship
with God.
The God who took my broken life
and transformed it into the most
magical story.

The story of a girl falling in love,
with a man who was 100% percent God
But in the flesh.
He is love personified.
He is the definition of everything she searched for
In every story, movie, song,
and poem.
He equaled the sum of all the parts
that just did not make sense.
He took her pain and turned it into
bars of gold.
He redeemed her.
He saw her.
He adopted her.

And wherever she went...
there He was.
Redeeming
Seeing
Adopting.
Making stories
out of moments that most would find
merely adequate.
He made poetry,
out of her pain.
He made sunshine
out of rain.

And she was never again
the same.

There's a thirst deep within
A hunger unsatisfied
My chest beating wildly
My eyes shining brightly

I'll never know if its filled
I'll never know if its met
But the idea that it will
Is the grandest idea I have had yet.

54

If I should die,
And you should live—
And time should gurgle on—
And morn should beam—
And noon should burn—
As it has usual done—
If Birds should build as early
And Bees as bustling go—
One might depart at option
From enterprise below!
’Tis sweet to know that stocks will stand
When we with Daisies lie—
That Commerce will continue—
And Trades as briskly fly—
It makes the parting tranquil
And keeps the soul serene—
That gentlemen so sprightly
Conduct the pleasing scene!