We are traveling, caring for our soul inside,
As we search for, what we should be doing,
Our personal purpose, in this short life,
To help the soul get closer to perfection,
So, it can move on, at the end of this ride.
None of us will know if we discovered,
Our purpose, until after our body dies.
I never was a reader, never planned to write,
It was August 31, 2002, twenty years ago,
A friend called crying, a friend of his, died,
Some voice inside was saying write a poem or song,
To help my friend, relieve his sorrow inside.
I remember arguing with myself, I cannot write,
I tried, it only took me about two hours, to finish,
Jamie’s Song, it seemed easy, I was on my way,
Now, around 2,000 complete, hundreds, I started, let lay.
Often it seems so easy, they just appear in my mind,
All honest stories, messages, for the future, my purpose,
I will never know, till after my heartbeats, the last time.
The Original Tom Maxwell © 1/4/2022 AD 7:50 AM
