Can I take about 60 seconds to
tell you how amazing you really are?
Would you mind?
Well you see..
It's not that simple,
But today,
my job was easy...
because well,
here you are.
And so here is my entry for today:
You may not realize this,
but you are a walking masterpiece.
As this speaks of you,
my love,
my heart,
my strength,
my passion,
my soul,
my equal,
my best friend,
my soulmate,
my challenge,
my everything.
You are a living,
breathing structure built of
206 interlocked bones.
640 interwoven muscles.
And 95 billion neurons,
all shooting energy
and messages endlessly to each other,
every moment of the day.
On top of all that,
You breathe 20,000 times per day.
You blink your eyelids 28,000 times per day.
And your heart beats 115,200 times per day.
All without even thinking about it!
Isn't that amazing? :-)
Plus, aside from being a walking masterpiece of science -
You are beautifully,
fearfully,
excellently,
gloriously made.
You are one of the most Generous, Thoughtful, and Kind person I know.
So, first of all, I just want to say,
THANK YOU FOR BEING AWESOME.
May your day be filled with all that is beautiful and divine.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

you want a religious poem?

exterminate the doctrine

and the being

will reveal itself

once again

What is a a soul really composed of?
This question is driving me mad,
I think about it, and it is disheartening,
The answer I lean towards is disappointing and sad.

Humans are made from flesh and bone,
Muscle, hair, 10 pints of blood,
Energy to efficiently move each part
A brain holding thoughts in a flood.

I am becoming very doubtful,
As I am writing these words down,
Is a soul what creates emotions,
Tells mouth to smile or frown?

We deny any possibility,
That ends with loss, sorrow, or pain,
I reach up for higher meaning,
Find no knowledge to gain.

Most people's beliefs rest upon a cloud,
Bathed in a golden glow,
I cannot put my faith in something,
No person for certain can know.

I worry souls are nothing else,
But feelings stemming from our brains,
If that is true, when our bodies leave this world,
And our last breath drawn, what remains?

I've got a crayon in my hand,
a color for every lost syllable
There's a brightly scribbled drawing
to make my mouth and head reconcilable