I come from a place of much fear and yearning. Yearing for that little extra that life has to offer which is just within our reach and fear that when faced with that yearning well withing my grasp will I ever have the courage to face up to it.Words have always been a way to make sense of the jumble within, it brings me clarity and makes things a reality. Nothing reflects me better than these words below.I stand watching the waves crash against the shore, leave back some things on the beach and take some things away with it. On and on tirelesslyit goes. "Stop it, stop it now!".But no one is listening. "Don’t take so much away, I'll have nothing left." The sea calls out, "But I’m leaving so many things back." Angry tears spilling over my cheeks I yell, "I don’t want what you have to give, I’m happy with what I have. Take away your so called gifts leave me back with what I had. Give me all that you took away from me, return what you had no right to take." The sea replies, "Not unless you see what I have left you". Strolling along the shore I find the mysteries of worlds far away at my feet, all within my reach. Think to myself I do, can I be mad for the old things been taken away from me when what I have always secretly hoped for is to have the mysteries of the world at my feet. I hear the gentle voice againm "Do you still want me to take it away?". "NO! NO!", escapes before I can control my words. The sea replies "That's what I thought". The sea drenches my feet and moves away digging my feet deeper into the sand.........
A marble, jostling among the congregation says: I am not so obsolete But am impelled to be desolate For, the ultimate cause of humanity Perished in its serendipity. Defiance and vengeance and malevolence Thrived in conquering this vicinity But humanity-succumbed
What implorations do they trace? These crooked legs in convulsion These crawly things in deathly grace What feeling evoke, what compulsion? The crushed mass on concrete floor In pasty death mocks my wisdom Should I act, or do I ignore
The grey-haired die of hunger, the children’s’ store full of food, While still breasting, death snatches her mom, She faces the wrath of her step-mother, what crime is she paying for? While still nurturing her infant, the shadow snatches her
Have you seen the wrath of Humanity? They feel it brings them sanctity. With the blood of the innocent, They feel it’s for them to mend. They say it’s heaven on earth But the innocent lay covered with blood, From