"endeavoring" poems
“Moby **** Herman Melville
<•>
~for the lost at sea~
after a year of saltwater absence and abstinence,
return to the island caught between two land forks
surrounded by river-heading flows
bound for the ocean great joining
the Atlantic welcomes the fresh water fools,
bringing with them hopefully, but hopeless gifts of obeisances,
peace-offerings endeavoring to keep their infinite souls
sea accepts them then drowns the
warm newcomers in the unaccustomed
deep cold salinity, which
sometimes erodes
sometimes preserving
their former freshwater cold originality
I’m called to depart my beach shoreline unarmed,
no kayak, sunfish or glass bottomed boat needed,
walk on water and my toes, ten eyes to see the bottom,
no depth perception limitation,
reading the floor’s topography,
millions of minion’s stories infinite,
many Munch screaming
god’s foot, heavy upon my shoulders,
a daytime travel guide, hired for me,
not a friendly travel companion, nope,
God a pusher showing off a drug called deep water salvation,
designated for the masses, can handle large parties
my in-camera brain eyes,
record everything for playback -
the lost and unburied, bone crossword puzzles
walk shore to ship, on soles to souls,
is this my new-summer nature welcome back greeting?
puzzled at the awesomeness of vastness,
conclude this clarification for me of the occluded-deep,
is a stern reminder of my insignificant existence,
my requirement to walk humbly, spare my sin of vanity, and
forgive my trespasses upon the lives of others
perhaps then the infinite of my soul perchance restored,
older visions clarified and future poems
will write themselves
and sea to it my predecessors
be better remembered
Memorial Day 2018
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 11:53 AM UTC
Three Nails (...)
Not so many as to denounce
A job done to make me well.
Three rudimentary spikes to nail
A man's own flesh to wood.
Three nails cannot
Seem so much to proffer;
Human efforts complementing
God's sacrificial offer.
A self-inflicted crucifixion?
Yes, I would do my part;
Would do me good, I think,
To offer up an offering to God.
So let this painful work,
Human endeavoring,
Perfection capturing,
Begin.
A simple thing, I think,
To hoist and hammer
Nails into myself,
A manly job to undertake
Impaling self
To spare my God
A little work.
The first, perhaps
Most painful...
To stop the feet
Their wandering ways,
To give me pause for just a bit
To meditate in pain
And to reflect or to project
Myself in better ways.
.
Then on to nail number two,
One hand to hold the nail
And one the hammer.
The pain intense
Impacts my good intent.
.
And yet, I've nailed number two,
And finding where the problem lies,
I have no way to nail thrice.
My living flesh begins to writhe
Its will-ward way,
E'en though in sky-ward
Agony my soul now wails.
Then I remember
Someone said,
"Your crucifixion stands
Upon a different hill,
Hangs on a different tree."
. . .
Though I can never end my flesh,
He paid my debt for me.
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 9:01 AM UTC
680
Each Life Converges to some Centre—
Expressed—or still—
Exists in every Human Nature
A Goal—
Embodied scarcely to itself—it may be—
Too fair
For Credibility’s presumption
To mar—
Adored with caution—as a Brittle Heaven—
To reach
Were hopeless, as the Rainbow’s Raiment
To touch—
Yet persevered toward—sure—for the Distance—
How high—
Unto the Saint’s slow diligence—
The Sky—
Ungained—it may be—by a Life’s low Venture—
But then—
Eternity enable the endeavoring
Again.
2.1k
O LOVE! O LOVE! WHY ARE YOU EVER DEVOID OF LOGIC?
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya; [email protected])
Mankind in its pathetic folly entice you in a dint of stupor
Knowing not your true colour and texture
Endeavoring to achieve glory in your mastery
With the so limited human capacity
In grey faith that you are a cradle of bliss
But O love! Why are you ever crooked?
Young men and women in strength of their sinews
Toil day and night in ******* of humanity
Praying and whining incantations with the hope for optimal love
Ornamenting their bodies with diamond and bronze
Fibre and silk ornamented to helm of providence
In the foolish quest for love equillibria
But in full stretch of your vice, you impish love
You catapult all away to the shifted goal posts
O love! O love! Why are you ever ruthless?
You hate the learned but you favour the strong
You hate professors but you favour the soldiers
You hate the rich but you favour the agile
You hate the lawyers but you favour the footballers
You hate the pastors but you favour the ruffian
You hate the whites but you favour the Negroes
You hate the groomed but you love the ragamuffin
You hate the chaste but you favour the mistress
O love! O love! Why are you ever illogical?
Love, I revere you for wickedness and irrationality
In all of your history you scored sum *** laude
In the duo as blend of your domain, Look;
You never dwell in a genuine companionship
You like where the couth will interject;
Amidst fornication between married and single ones
Amidst adultery in the triangle of foul compassion
Amidst miscegenation between black and white
Amidst infatuation between the whole and the lame
Amidst conjugal appetite between the old and the young
Amidst concupiscence between house master and houshelp
Amidst immorality of married master over the wallowing servant
Amidst libidos between literate teacher unto the peasant pupil
Amidst disordered passion among the sly lesbians
Amidst impious ********** among the suave gays
O love! O love! You are the most wicked force!
Love I am told; your colour is red
You may be red or you may not be red
But all in all, you deserve poetical veneration
For your herculean ability to bend the most wise;
In your force you made sagacious Shakespeare to bend
In your force you made Princes Diana to bend and bend
Bending downwardly stooping for Afawoyed the moor,
In your stupefying dint you made Napoleon de Bonaparte
To bend and bend downwardly stooping for Josephine
Josephine a famed she-Casanova in the gone Paris
Among the then humanity and the then animality,
In your impairing machinery you set sons on their fathers
In the roman empire of Antony and Ceaser
In the scramble for Cleopatra, the Egyptian queen
Beauty of her aquiline nose heavily hovered perhaps
In the eyes of the Roman beholders
The father and the son only to sent the empire
To the love forlorn smithereens!
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 5:08 AM UTC
Such an abused past, much vast… Darkly basked and masked!
Badly, sadly bruised or roused, from the cold or scold! Bold or
old! Coerced or forced! Victims of heroism, terrorism, **** or
scraps. Casual, intellectual, punctual, sensual, ****** or virtual.
However its clever affliction, direction and infection. Its con-
densed defense, a pretense of self-sense and intense suspense!
Unfortunately, if induced, seduced or misused, the abused may
eventually fuse! An abstruse spruce, controversially in use.
Gratefully to some; the increasing of peace and a truce is to become.
I proclaim with claim! It blames, deems and seems forever! For those endeavoring, policing and severing this noose and nuisance of abuse!
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 9:50 PM UTC
*An unprecedented night with friends.
We were talking about the moon and the stars,
figuring out the constellations
that we were too young for,
and for some reason, love,
we were talking about you instead.
She declared that you've permanently lost
your dear lady, that I personally could not
do without. For some other reason, darling,
I was in awe of your beauty.
However, you were encompassed
in an aura of self-confidence,
and I couldn't believe you all along.
That smile never left your visage,
so I was left wondering how you do it,
making it seem like you've reached salvation easily.
This tear-stained paper I'm writing on
is my heart breaking into pieces for you.
You will always have my condolence,
my skinny love, and my worthwhile silence.
Never have I imagined being distraught this much,
for I am in a state of self-loathing,
despising how I didn't try harder to be
in your company.
To confront you,
and to endlessly love you.
But I'm sorry I never got the chance
to tell you how beautiful of a soul you are.
Maybe someday when you're truly jubilant,
with no fake smiles and no dry tears,
you'd read this poem and perhaps,
you may think of the girl who
let you borrow her pen
but left it with you on purpose
so she'd have a chance of talking to you again,
only to find out that you never gave it back.
Love, it's okay now because I have a wider scope of things,
and you may have been too occupied shedding tears for her
to pay some attention to my green ballpoint pen.
I forgive you.
And I hope you forgave me when I lied to you and smiled,
because in reality,
we are all sad souls with fleeting moments of happiness,
endeavoring to reach solitude,
with neither of us saying what we really mean.
And I guess nobody ever does.*
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 9:19 AM UTC
1759
Which misses most,
The hand that tends,
Or heart so gently borne,
’Tis twice as heavy as it was
Because the hand is gone?
Which blesses most,
The lip that can,
Or that that went to sleep
With “if I could” endeavoring
Without the strength to shape?
1.8k
Eventually
We all become believers
You will see
We all hit the gutters
And deceive
What we know
Into what we need
Feeding
On the hope
To cope
With the NO
Of every plea
Foiling
The gaping holes
While fruitlessly
Feathering dreams
Of ceasing
To be
Anywhere but there
Anywhere but here
Afraid and aware
Lying barren
On a hair
To everywhere
But where we want to be
Your everything
Believed in our belief
In our grieving
Of a meme
Obsolete and teething on a ***
Seething in seeing it
Unseamed
And undone
Unto nothing
Disconnected dots
Unlit
Breathing out
And away
From meaning
Slightly clinging
To the things
Believed
To Matter
Scattered over
The tattered matters
In meteor
Metaphors
Seeding
The other chapters
But not until after
Factoring in
The tractor beams
Of nothing
Just waiting
On the bottom
Of the gut
Crawling up
The throat lumps
And stuffing our luck
With all the succulent stuff
We are made of
Until eruptions
Of higher functions
Save us
From the ****
When enough
Is enough
And we just stop
Giving a ....
And let go
Blow after blow
Until we know
Who is in control
Of what is real
And what is
Made up
From atoms to the eave
Of our dreams
We must glean
What we need to
To get us through
These words
Of hurt
Out from lurking
In the work
Of our enemies
Forever tempting me
To blaspheme
In the wake
Of your passing
The endeavoring
Ever lasting
In careful mapping
Of the synapses
Collapsing
Into relief
Though brief
Locked in eternity
Oh the possibilities
My everything
And my humility
Locked in a single thought
In anxiety
Gone quietly
My hands before me
Steady
Always ready
Blanket me
In blank
Make me
Or break me
Take me
To forever
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 1:03 AM UTC
I. Incumbent incubus;
An evil man sees the light
So he seizes the light
Zealously endeavoring
to extinguish its fervor
II. Duplicitous snake;
Trembling, the ground gives way
All the while shadows in his mind
Animate a reflection of life
All embracing, smothering him
Enveloped like a butterfly in his chrysalis
III. Beguiling wolf;
Frantically he seizures
Oh, unbeliever
With magnificent gusto,
Manifests the Inferno
Ubiquitously irradiating
To both cleanse,
and drive the shadows hiding
just beyond sight
Once more into the infernal abyss
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 4:39 AM UTC
Nightfall stretched out like a canvas,
Discordant screams rattled the night;
People hid within the darkness,
Endeavoring to survive until morning light.
A grotesque creature, long-decayed
Clawed at my arm as I cowered;
In a moment I would die and
Be entirely overpowered.
Gunshots lashed at the air,
And the monster's hands fell away from me.
I turned on my heel and ran,
Began to quickly flee.
I tripped on what felt like a corpse,
And cried as footsteps sounded behind me;
But it was a human hand that pulled this time,
And human voice that sounded, "Let me lead."
Guns blazing, the strange man led me,
Through the streets of the rising dead;
And we said not a single word,
Until later when it was time for bed.
We nestled together under the stars,
And he held my face in his hands:
"You are a very handsome,
And attractive man."
I would blush if I were not wholly content,
Staring into the blue of his eyes;
The next morning there would
Be even more undead to fight.
But this night we had each other,
Were completely safe and sound;
I was lucky that I had
Been saved and found.
"Thank you for saving me,"
I whispered to the man;
And he kissed me then, withdrew,
And said, "Love is my foremost plan."
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 10:47 PM UTC
vitamin after vitamin
envisioning happiness
laced in each one
maybe it will
"help"
or maybe
its all in your head
and you're endeavoring
to place it in mine
with a glass of water
and slight smile
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 8:03 AM UTC
I am a little drop of tear
Falling from the eye of a soul in heaven
Willing to make his lover hear
That he watches her twenty four seven.
At the moment of despair
When he sighs out warm air
I make my way back to him
As if I was called upon by the grim
To finish my journey on land
And come back with memories hand in hand.
He never notices me
Since I am a ****** dew
So he never sees
That the people I trust are just few,
The people I love the most
Are limited in my heart.
I fall again
When he cries for his lover
I tap my fingers on her window
But she ignores it as she doesn't know
How much effort it takes
To help someone reunite
How much tantrums people make
When they have a fight.
His screams growl in the sky
The lightning flickers like a broken bulb
I am too shy
To tell I'm not comfortable being his messenger
When I have a message for him
But I still try,
To reach her,
Endeavoring to break her window
With the infuriated winds
To try and tell her he left
But now he only thinks
About her and no one else
Not even the one beside him, his messenger
The shy messenger, the silent one
Trying to wake up the resilient,
His lover, who has become deaf
After years of misery and listening to the heaven's cry
Without realising that it was her lover,
And an effort of the lonely messenger to make them reunite.
I am the small part of this story,
The story of three lovers,
I being the messenger
Being the soft and small part of his tear,
Reaching his lover,
Trying to make her smile,
Trying to make him smile
But as the rainy season ends,
All the tears freeze,
The cold winds start to blow,
The hard to bear heavy breeze,
I regret to make a delay
In trying to make him smile in glee
For all my petty efforts failed
To make him see that day
When like all the romantic stories
End in a cliche.
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 3:11 PM UTC
In a world of repression,
Struggling for salvation.
Amidst an aura of dolour,
Searching for that fragrance of ecstasy.
Amidst the loathing black clouds,
Searching for the glint of intimacy.
When lost in a desolate land of colluders,
Looking for a true companion to breeze in.
When squawk of exploitation went unheard,
Shrieking to pull humanity out of vice.
In a world of tyranny,
Pacifistically,Endeavoring for liberty.
Struggling, shrieking, endeavoring and dreaming for a just and virtuous world, YES I AM ALIVE with a hope.
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 2:24 PM UTC
Oh, to be a sad balloon... and sail the wayward wind alone
To leave this troubled world behind, embark upon the vast unknown
Yet somewhere.. I can hear the soulful song that loneliness intones
I realize that there are things your heart, and mine…
could not condone
It seems that I may so escape my darkness.. in the shining sky
Perhaps to drift away in blue, where sorrow fails to underlie
I hope you realize, within my dreams… I never saw you cry
I rise to sad uncertainty, with cigarette and eau de vie
I wait for the approaching light, and hope to witness healing dawn
The sun however, fails to so provide what hearts depend upon
But I suppose the wind has seen to ordination .. love foregone
To leave my spirit resolute, embodiment of hope withdrawn
These thoughts that crowd my mind at times, have left me strangely ill at ease
Though I recall my dreams of love, do not misunderstand me please
My aspirations lie above, and there are many thoughts of these
Until my sorrow once again, arrives upon the savage breeze
To leave me here in desolation, endeavoring to soar the skies
To wonder, when will truth contend... dispatch the dread and dire lies
Can I have hope of happiness?... well I don’t know...but I surmise
My sorrow stands as barricade, for tears I’ve placed there in your eyes
So I aspire to ride the wind, out far beyond the waning moon
To leave disorder furthermost, where love and kindness
then commune
So I may know the many reasons, hearts were broken... much too soon
I bid farewell to radiance,
in a wretched ode to a sad balloon...
Dean Evans
12-31-14
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 7:14 PM UTC
Fractured, ruined, lost within my thoughts.
Soaked too the bone with baneful memories,
Like vines entwined in my brain banging at the door just to breath,
Your insensibility, absurdity and nonsense is like a fire burning deep within me,
because if it wasn't for your ignorance we wouldn't be in this reality.
Your words like venom spiting cruel ****
Always saying I love you but,
“Your thighs are too thick”
So choke on you articulation on this proper occasion,
suffocating on your enlightening ********
as if finally you taste the appalling choice of your vocabulary,
Instead of feasting on the frightening idea that you’ll be alone.
Forever most likely.
Instead of feeling the warmth of an embrace,
the sweet softness of a kiss,
or the burn of passion between two bodies.
You'll shrivel up like skin that’s been adrift in the ocean,
wrinkled, wreaked, and wicked ******
I feel sorry for you and the way that you’ll die,
Cold and heart broken like a vase that was dropped from the sky.
Ill pry that one day you’ll awake from this malevolent slumber
And be forced to endure the endeavoring of your madness,
To feel every verbal scar you left on anybody.
Tearing away from beneath your skin,
Slowly forcing you to mask holes of athencity to your past.
So release me from your obnoxious, vicious grasp,
Allowing me to be free from my entrapped sanity
And leave the minefield surrounding me,
Just waiting for it to backfire and convulse right here in front of me.
Take back the conversations,
Take back the fights,
And late nights.
Cut the memories right from the root and untangle them from my mind.
You may have wasted my time,
But I swear to you I lied because I wont love you any long for all time,
I wont care for you,
You’ll be an old bruise on my fragile body.
Because I’m Fractured, ruined, and lost within my thoughts.
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 9:29 AM UTC
Just fractured textures
Excerpts of memories,
Forgotten conjectures
Trapped in space and time;
Just figments of rendered sectors
that I’ve assembled to fabricate
my reality beyond measure
I’m tethered but the pressure
Never lessens whatsoever
Forever endeavoring to sever my essence
Or consciousness altogether
The splendor of the Nether
Whether it’s my pleasure to ever enter
Or remain a lonely specter
destined to beg the question,
but plagued to always remember
I invent scenarios in my head
And fantasize how I long to be dead
While conceptualizing my grave end
Though I dread the inevitable attempt
The hand I’m dealt lost in the shuffle
My walls crumble deciphering life’s puzzles
Disillusioned with the hustle and bustle
Solutions come full circle at the bottom of a bottle
Mental status: unstable
Cerebral stasis turns tables
Visibly miserable and unable
To cope without the love of my chemical savior
From the apex, I’m ready to sail
While failing to grasp what all it entails
I steadily hide intent in my tales
In my dreams I’m haunted
since leaving the cradle
Life is beautifully frail
I see myself dancing in the portrayal
with the reaper as the main feature
veiled together in a cerebral theater
Patterns intertwine
In fashioned structures
I slumber and suffer
Painting caricatures
Of a perfect life
I yearn to capture
In lustrous colors
That fail to convert
Jul 31, 2019
Jul 31, 2019 at 7:40 AM UTC
Educate...
Let them trade those weapons they hold so dear with papers and pens.
Let them cease the bombing and hostility that's behind the aching of countries, families, and friends.
Educate...
Let there be no conflicts resolved through blood spilled by innocent souls.
Exchange it for drops of ink endeavoring to mend and put the pieces back together of a country that was once whole.
Educate... To foster peace and force change.
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 1:05 PM UTC
I imagine that I will
fold my arms over the
cage around my heart,
subconsciously endeavoring
to suppress the air
in the hollow beneath it.
But I'm sure
I'll only succeed
in drawing attention
to the vulnerability
I was trying to
hide in the
first place.
Even though few
people consider fleeing
as an act of bravery,
I hope I will find the
courage to turn
around and run.
But glancing back,
I will drink in
that which I've
been pining to see -
your face,
handsome and solemn
as ever.
Your heart no longer
says my name,
yet mine has yours
written all over it.
I'm scarred from all
the times that I
scratched it out
with a razor
in the hope that
I could somehow
forget.
It's a battle
that I continue to lose.
I don't know if
I will ever win.
I'm doubtful,
but ever hopeful.
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 2:01 AM UTC
Golden wings flutter lightly across the back of my hand, relaying to me traces of dreams only their feeble minds could capture. Soft, flickering melodies descend through their grey, wintry-like gazes, as their quiet thoughts echo through their silent, fragile words. Endless emotions reverberate from the walls of their minds, as I gaze at their rapid movement, endeavoring to weave their tales together. Still, reality and fantasy keep swimming aimlessly across my brain until finally, finally, I stroke the blank page with my pen.
One by one, those butterflies stop, as they scrutinize the wondrous obsession which led to my desire, my passion. They watch as my fingers drum impatiently against the page, somehow sensing the troubled confines of my imagination. It wasn’t long before they stop floating by. Instead, they begin to watch me, with those intelligent, naive eyes of theirs. Whether it be from confusion or amusement, I couldn’t tell.
Still, even with my now small audience gathering near, I am left only with a memory of what once was my own. I could only pick up my pen, and write down their movements, their thoughts and emotions, the curiosities and sanities that possessed them to be near me. I wrote down the beauty of their strong, fragile wings, all the while keeping their quiet sonnets to myself. I read and reread, write and rewrite, until there was nothing left of the forgotten, neglected space I once dreamt of.
And so, I could only gaze back at the butterflies from my own madness, all the while looking back at the page I filled with my own words. Black words, golden words, words that carried both blessings and curses, words that tore my heart asunder, while keeping my sanity whole. Then, in that same breath, I shoo my butterflies away.
I begin my story.
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 11:35 AM UTC
I watched you walk
Shoe laces untied
Right out that door
I peered at more
Your spine shimmering
I gave you hell
But here you are
Leaving
Your bones rake and rattle
I can here them when i'm close
But what got me
What really got me
Was the skyscraper you seem to pull out every time
there it is
Holding your soul at such a peak
But your bones are frail
And i yet weak
You hold but a piece of me
Yet i am weak
Endeavoring is only the conquest
Am i not right?
Or am i a bit bashful
I wish you farewell sky
Scraper
Until at last i reach your soul
At the top
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 4:16 AM UTC
Sin so sickening yet beckoning you closer,
Its twisted tendrils of temptation seeking your destructive desires,
Your purity is worthless and hidious, it seeks your submission to the sinister
Ferociously endeavoring its newest prisoner
Devouring your sanity, it enters your skin
Surrounded by blackness, you start chasing sin
Nov 29, 2015
Nov 29, 2015 at 7:31 PM UTC
Simplicity is not often with me,
For I am constantly spinning myself
Into a labyrinthine web of words.
(It's a problem - the spinner in my head
Cranks out WAY too much thoughtful thread.)
But I know how pointless it is to live this short life
without openly sharing my truths,
So, full of ambition,
I endlessly aspire to keep the door open
To this messy box.
So I wade through the mess
Collecting anchoring chords,
Endeavoring to weave them
Into an elegant and refined tapestry,
Ready to be presented to you.
One that says,
"Ever see the sun as the star it is, hanging in the sky?"
"Imagine giant glaciers bowling over these plains,"
"What's stopping us from staying out all night?"
or
"Let me list all the ways you are a beacon to my spirit",
"Please tell me about everything you love,"
"I look forward to these moments with you every other moment."
But that's always, like, way too much.
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 10:46 PM UTC
Why is your soul so attractive to me?
I wanted you before I knew you
I made you up
unknowingly
piece by piece
you came together
in my past, endeavoring, thoughts
before I knew I had you
in front of me
From the first moment I knew
I felt like we've known each other before
maybe we have..
It sparked my curiosity
why are you so intriguing
it is rather exciting
Cognitively, I put up my security
and held up my heraldry
But I am slowly seeing, you are not one to be fearing
Why are you this way?
Why are you so beautiful
Perhaps because I am use to the hostile
You must experience darkness to appreciate the light
I embrace your light and soak it up like the rays of the Sun
Of all the questions I have but just one
to answer me,
please can we continue to be
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 12:00 PM UTC
Is it possible, to be walking worthily,
before our God, in a world that’s dying?
While we have some defined understanding
of the constraints that are placed on us,
are we making the effort or even trying?
Are we operating with humbled mindsets
of lowliness, meekness and long-suffering?
Have we grasped the full purpose and plans,
for our vocation within His eternal Kingdom?
Do our actions show that we’re endeavoring
to move beyond personal crusades and desires
to impress anyone, whose lives intersect ours?
Is there a unity of The Spirit, whereby we
can have serenity with everyone around us?
Are we being productive or just wasting hours?
Does our Christian lifestyle reflect the idea
of us having one Lord, one Faith and one Baptism?
Are those, within the Church or outside of it,
being edified by the way we conduct ourselves?
Or are we acting out… in spiritual vigilantism?
.
.
.
Author notes
Inspired by:
Eph 4:1-16
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.
Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 6:57 PM UTC