Got my eyes set from atop the hills
to see beyond the horizons
fenced by excessive thrills and bills
feeling the voice of the breeze
as the eagles glide with will
still sleeved in the scars of reality
that only time will heal.
It's not a mistake that's a mistake
it's all that we give and take
for congruency in life;
purpose we still seek each day
to attain it,
with a chapter each day, turn another page
through a line half written
suddenly caged
put asunder by a higher power
and I wonder if I'll wonder
whether I found it or
if i finished where i was supposed
but i suppose,
I caught a glimpse of what it should be;
how I should be remembered
like dust, Living free
Picture from: Sycamore Publications
Fimisola-Samuel
9/25/2011
No comments:
Post a Comment