"For everything there is a season,
And a time for every matter under heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die;
A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
A time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
A time to embrace, And a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to seek, and a time to lose;
A time to keep, and a time to throw away;
A time to tear, and a time to sew;
A time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate,
A time for war, and a time for peace." -Ecclesiastes (3:1-8)
It was here where this makeshift
device laid- not thinking nor
determining which destined
path to take upon those shores
And remnants of self trickled
down in droplets of liquidized
condensation upon -- no, beneath
every breath taken, then simply
exhaled
Scripted leaves with their
words of sanctity, lined in
rows not too far in the
distance; scripted truths
waved back and forth in-between
turmoil and serendipity, yet creation
wasn't seen in that moment of
pure clarity
By perchance, was these questions
meant to be spoken into whispered
air?
So for the time being, this body
shall sit in the middle contemplating
the next move to take
Adding your comment:
if you could be Unique,