Don't hate
my
Destiny,
as I am a vessel...
willing
as I want to be,
Psalms read
palms fed;
nevertheless my soul
seeks that of many paths...
unknown
covered sugarcones,
while I fight,
alone
homeless in my mind;
fighting all the time
emptying my pockets
with lint
while the leap years,
claim my last dime.
Polished and preserved
as mother earth
moves me
into a category of
unfamiliar territory.
Standing in quick sand,
as my life passes by
while man looks down upon me
for my mistakes,
tears fall
from my eyes
the hate...
must I go on?
This is you
or is it me?
Questions, asked
ultimately
now I have read
my Psalms
of a spirit that has been torn.


You've reached inside you to bring forth such spiritually reminescent verbiage. A poignant and lovely piece
Dee



















40 old applause
