. . . and finally i
allow the sun to
set on another
two years too
late ? or maybe
time . . .
my shell and my
spear - this heart
of mine in its
place of power
as an emerald bird
frees the water
from its cell
Like a harbour docked with ships ,
That Leave and arrive in the guidance of a light house, is my heart.
A shelter to the arriving and departing love.
Wrecked,Wretched and awful.
That once rented a gruesome space
to a soujourner.
A tenent unknown and untrustworthy.
Some men seek flesh which does not belong to them.
Others, gold, or colored paper worn extraordinarily thin.
Still others covet gadgets and toys that tinker.
Some merely are after the liberty to be a free-thinker.
While I see the value of gold and liberty,
One will grow old, while the other is found in tranquility.
So then, as I sojourn, my eyes are set on the Trinity.
And because of the pity of Divinity,
I am already a citizen of that unseen city.
Destiny will not be found
in the realm of time
Limited to our own imaginations
We are all but strangers in this land
It is those who find a belonging to this world
who are truly lost
Echoes we chase of discontentment
Searching for pieces we think we lost
or never had
Hearing the voices inside and out
Declaring "You Don't Belong"
Wanderers, explorers, seekers at best
Life is a Sojourn
not a place to nest
— The End —