Swirling colors
And vibrating air,
Filling my world;
Shaking my spine.

The world has moved so much
And now I’m moving off a lifeline.

Now I fall.
The realm of ash awaits,
And I hit the ground with a flume.

Some nervous tension
Is still in the night air,
Although everyone is asleep.

Where does my next breath  comes from.
It comes from the Lord Jesus my Savior.
My Creator , the Creator of the Heavens.
The Creator of the earth and all mankind.
Wihout his blessings , we would all be cursed.
So where does my next step comes from.
Jesus the Creator of the heavens and the earth.

I wrote ...I erased...
I refined it....then wrote it again.

The words....of the memories....
Writing the soul....with different stories.

Calmed breathing...finally controlled...
Pulse under normal...then.... I let go.

I don’t write to get called good
I write to be understood
Do you understand?

I don’t write for petty praise
That would be a waste of my days
My poems are my own extended hand

I just want people to see
What it’s like to be me
And who I really am

Though my poems are called “good”
I am still misunderstood
When will somebody understand?

So many labels
So many versions of this same conformity
Why can't we just be who we want to be
And leave the details up to me

To you, the ground beneath my feet
Every step I take,
you support me.

You stand with me,
in my times of trouble

I am warmed by your embrace,
as I become entranced in your outfit of lace.

Nothing could be more finely crafted,
than my connection with you.

The ages may wear on you,
yet you remain the only one
my sole longs for.

For you truly are...
My favorite pair of shoes.