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Age Spiritual Poems | Age Poems About Spiritual

These Age Spiritual poems are examples of Age poems about Spiritual. These are the best examples of Age Spiritual poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Rhyme | |

After the fall

Quite frankly, I don't remember at all
You see I was quite young when I took my first fall.
Don't know which parent was there to catch me
Or how hard the decision was to stand back and let me. 
Did I topple forward or backward, or who made the call. 
And who scooped me up crying
After the fall.
I can't remember the joy of first letting go
And taking that step without holding on. 
Groping my way forward
Leaning against the wall
I got back up 
After the fall.
As the Earth spun the years flew by so fast
At 17 I finally knew everything at last!!
Unexpectedly, I fell once again,
Head over heels this time 
And out on a limb.
I was so sure of that bet
I gambled it all
Heart bruised abused and then broken
After that fall.
And then I broke my own promise 
To not love again.
Hungry for life
I gambled to win.
Life is a theatre of first steps first 
A one act play with no time to rehearse.
Co starring in roles
Cast without planning.
"Never more" echoes 
The raven still chanting.
Undaunted unwilling
To let darkness win all
Trusting Father to be there
After the fall.
Then the day came
When I had a son
To let him learn the word hot And hope he'd not run,
Would he still love me
Or trust me at all
When I pulled my hand back
And allowed him to fall?
And knowing I'd be there again
To help him to stand
And knowing he might never walk
If I didn't let go of his hand
And hoping he didn't revert back to a crawl
When I let go of his hand
And allowed him to fall.
As the earth kept on turning
My heart kept yearning
My son now a man
Living and learning.
He hasn't held my hand now in a very long time
The cats in the cradle slowly plays in the back of my mind.
I looked in the mirror today
And noticed my dad.
And remembered a talk that we'd never had.
Remembering how he seemed towering and tall 
And was there every time 
After each fall.
I lose my balance these days now and again
My steps aren't as sure
As they once might have been. 
In the winter of life now
I feel so small
And wonder who'll catch me
If I take a fall. 
I suppose I'll just have to trust Father
With both great things and small 
To pick me up on the other side
When I take my last fall.

Copyright © Kelly Crenshaw

Details | Rhyme | |


Bob had been a lonely man ever since
His wife of fifty years had passed.
“Lord, let me join her.” he would pray.
“Let this day be my last.”

Each day, he went to the cemetery,
Just a short walk down the street.
After their talk, he would water her flowers
And hear passers-by whisper, “How sweet.”

One gray and misty morning,
He had hoped for sunnier skies
To plant fall bloomers at her graveside;
But, there, to his surprise…

Stood an old dog beside her stone;
Thin and dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as Bob approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”

He sat calmly as Bob planted flowers,
Carefully sniffing each one Bob put in place.
Then, after the last one was planted,
He sniffed it; then turned and licked Bob’s face.

Bob smiled. “I had a dog when I was young…
Pal…he was a mighty good one too.
So, if you don’t mind old fella,
That’s what I’ll call you.”

Pal may have been an old dog,
But he was smart and handsome in his way;
So they made a deal, Bob would give him a meal
And a bath, if he decided to stay.

Pal loved his bath, then rolled in the grass.
He slept on a blanket in the den.
In the night, he dragged it next to Bob’s bed. 
He intended to be Bob’s best friend.

Pal was such a good dog, housebroken too;
Never made a mess or got in trouble.
He knew about newspapers, slippers and Frisbees;
And when Bob called, he ‘d come on the double.

Yes, Pal gave Bob’s life new purpose.
A special bond of friendship was cast.
And never again did Bob pray, 
“Lord, let this day be my last.”

For twelve years, the very best of friends,
Together night and day;
And so it was, until one night,
Both quietly passed away.

The next morning, an old woman,
Tears welling in her sad and lonely eyes,
Brought flowers to her husband’s grave;
But there, to her surprise….

Stood an old dog beside the stone, 
Thin an dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as she approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”

He sat calmly as she took old flowers
And put fresh ones in their place. 
He carefully sniffed the fresh ones,
Then turned and licked her face.

She smiled.  “I had a dog when I was young...
a good one too.  His name was Pal.”

Copyright © Robert Candler

Details | Free verse | |

Between Happiness And Sadness

Between happiness and sadness
 —silence; an angel prays:

I kiss the loneliness of old people, 
their temples like handfuls of winter; 
their hearts
are used baggage, 
memories speak to them, 
they smile and
tell me stories from their youth 
—sadness falls; 
silence passes unspoken
—they remember the dead. 

I kiss the loneliness from their temples
and sadness lifts from their mouths.

From my first book: 'In Forbidden Language'

©dah / Stillpoint Books 2010
all rights reserved

Search Amazon Books: "in forbidden language/dah"

Copyright © Dah Lusion

Details | Ballade | |



Grandparents they be two lights
Who may lead to wisdoms door.
For hopefully they've lived their lives
And made that journey to the core
And found the jewel buried there
Beneath the shades of sorrow.
And now these two be living life
No past and no tomorrows.

They be a pool within a desert
Where the grass grows lush and green.
A cool place where the kids drop in
To breath in air that's more serene.
They will be gentle, sweet, but stern
{If the need for this comes up}
But mostly kids look on these folk
To over fill the loving cup.

And when these ancient ones depart
And through the golden gates do stroll
The power that rules these mighty realms
{Once the aids have weighed the soul}
Will send them down as spirit folk
To help folks lives to flow
before they enter Earth again
To gain another chance to grow.

Copyright © Peter Duggan

Details | Free verse | |

The Color Missing

The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes.  Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.

‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt

Details | Free verse | |

Just Be

Sometimes I admire the littlest things
A simple rock. A blade of grass. 
They need no future goals, no tax exemptions
They don’t need to go anywhere or be anything
They just are. 

Sometimes, especially when I’m reading life insurance policies,
I envy the rocks and the grass
And try to be like them for a moment. 
I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind-
And it whispers in my ear:
Just be.
And for that moment I don’t need to go anywhere or be anything.
And at the snap of my fingers, 
All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life
Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind.

Jacob Reinhardt

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt

Details | Rhyme | |

An Ordinary, Extraordinary Walk

An old man takes his daily walk, his old dog limping after
Hobbling down the city streets, to where it does not matter.
Familiar faces they do meet, some nod, some at times greeting
With heavy footsteps moving on, gnarled hand on his cane, gripping.
Near church steps they walk by at dawn, where homeless men are sprawling
Ancient man and ancient dog, through trash as ants are crawling.
Through the misty morning fog, the pair are watched by God above
Heaven watches them with care, covering man and beast with love.
Angels know the when and where, and guide their footsteps homeward.

Copyright © Laura Leiser

Details | Couplet | |

Your Legacy Your Lineage

Time takes age and does what it will
Man ages and wishes time to stand still.

There is infinite turning of the hands on a clock
As mortals we hear the constant tick-tock.

There is a human desire to leave something behind
Hoping our earthly possessions ease our greedy mind.

What is gathered on this planet of earth
Can not bring us back to our place of birth.

Helping others should be our lifetime goal
Not cluttering earth before you're put in a hole.

God gives us an ultimate rule
Love one another and not to be cruel.

If we really wish to leave something behind
Teach your children to give and to be kind.

Your legacy should not be what you can obtain
But what your lineage does each and everyday.

Copyright © Brian Magness

Details | Blank verse | |

The Dust God

I am drifting into memories.
Wasting away like a million photographs fading in the sun-
Yet with ceaseless renewal,
Staining the depths of my eyes with images
In the minds shutter ever fluttering to infinity,
Stringing together this conscious stream I play in-
My stupendous God made of dust and space
Tightrope walking existence!
And to think we too are made of mostly nothing-
Chance so scarcely gracing our atoms with a single touch
In a place so lonely when counted, 
Yet so abounding when felt!
So dance with the Dust God 
Poised miles above the earth-
Prance on your stilts, 
And peek into the great valleys beneath his skin.
Because any moment we could disappear 

Jacob Reinhardt	

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt

Details | Free verse | |

The Strand

This expanse of land has seen things. 
Things all of us can only see in dreams.
It's seen war, it's gotten it's fair share of scars.
Bombs bursting, bullets throwing sand into the air like it's a volleyball tournament.
The sand running red with blood silently mocking our arteries.

This magnificent stretch of land has seen heroes' tears fall; dropping to their knees while sadness envelopes their fallen brothers but also looking up to their beloved whilst carrying a ring in their hand. 

It's seen bright days, the sun glimmering over wet sand, footprints of past loves being washed away as the sun smacks the horizon. 

This expanse of land...has seen things we can only imagine.


Copyright © Tyler Kisner

Details | Rhyme | |

Is It God We Trust Or Leave In the Dust

Is It God We Trust? Or Leave In the Dust? As our courts remove God from this great nation. We are left with a confused and lost generation! As God is taken away from our public schools. A huge tide of immorality is what “rules.” The Bible is often mocked and discarded. It was on it’s principles this country was started! Just about anything of God seems to get scorned. So many “rush” to worship many ungodly forms. As God’s name is often tossed and thrown out. We tend to forget what HE is all about! Too often, his plans for living are tossed and abused. No wonder, there’s many who are lost and confused! As people forget God and worship the fallen creature. They look to themselves and “glorify” their features. Many ignore God, and get involved in deep addictions. And with this, come disease, heartache and afflictions! As God looks and sees this nation “bleeding.” It’s his righteousness, that we need to be seeking! If we would humble ourselves, he would hear our prayer! He loves all of us! And he really does care! Won’t you come to HIM, And invite him in? Won’t you allow him to be your master and friend? He brings strength and nourishment to the soul! It’s only in him that we can be made whole! By Jim Pemberton

Copyright © Jim Pemberton

Details | Ballad | |

Survey Of A Happy Life

Survey Of A Happy

The question I was
The couple answered;
it's Good-Flavorful
and lasting.
It is fun and
it's giving and
It is easy to
if you know the

It is hushed kisses,
smooth caresses
gentle movements
that induce deep-
gutted moans
it is pillow talk
and long walks-

A blood rush to
it is rocking chairs
and wheel chairs
It's thanking
God for each other -
for the ability
to remain meek.

And for our,
adored.. seeing the
past presented in
presence of their
Enduring and over-
looking each
Sharing of favorite
stories for the
Ump-tenth time.

The prayers,the joys
shared, produced the
unity that made
us strong. Strong
enough together to
withstand disasters.
Escaping cracks
and sink holes...

We who know,know
the value of
Also we see the
importance of
We knew how to live
we knew love then
and shall, in the

Copyright © Vicki Acquah

Details | Quatrain | |


From the spoils and tragedies of childhood,
panning virtues out of dispositions.
Impaling self upon the spears of truth,
cuts chains of substances and delusions.

Upon mercy’s door, the forgiving heart,
handles Love with gratitude and prudence.
Walking the gallows when bound to depart,
no more illusions when choosing masters.

Respect no longer collecting trophies,
Wars and peace only with integrity.
Essence lives in speech without utterance,
Pride under shovelfuls of honesty.

Closing the chapters when life deems it so.
Strong days testing the brave to deliver,
even when to the ones loved, it is no.
Broken but still, in those times forsaken.

An ear towards the counsel of the wise.
Wooed by the songs of a revolution,
prunes the soul of what is left, harnessed fears,
in diaries of this evolution.

Contest: The TRUE Meaning of Being Adult
Sponsor: FJ Thomas

Copyright © rob carmack

Details | Villanelle | |

Watch Over Me

"Oh how I want, oh how I plea."
To that Big Guy  in the  clouds,
Yes, Someone to watch over me

Should I ever enlightened be
still to spirits and saints pray
But need someone to watch over me

Images of gods as mother or daddy
or pictures of anglicized Jesus
Oh how I want, oh how I plea

Hope my god holds me so easily
As into heaven I want to go
Someone, Oh yes to watch over me

Wondering at all the glory I see
Is this really all there is
Oh how I plea, and how I plea

After the millionth or so glory
Sadly wondering at this story,
Oh my god how must I plea
For someone to watch over me!

Copyright © Thomas Martin

Details | ABC | |

Grey Bird

On that cloudy weekend in June 
I hear a soft and graceful tune 
from the grey bird on the tree 
Singing sweet lullabies felt 
blessed in the moment 
My body tingles of joy at sight 
Gazing out through 
my open door,
Letting thoughts fly free
Releasing love out into the horizon 
Heart filled with emotion came 
over me 
Grey bird stood playing its tune 
for awhile and on the wings of 
letting go
Then as the rain fell from the 
sky the grey bird flew away 
I blew a kiss to the clouds and 
utterd these simple words of I 
Love You father ( who's now in 
heaven ) and yet I hope to hear 
that grey bird sing again once 
more for me 
Farewell, love your son

Poem contest for Debbie -referential

Copyright © Brian Otoole

Details | Epithalamium | |

The Soul Shatters

The soul shatters upon death. Sentience fractures into a million variables that swirl chaotically into piercing eyes that melt into the color sadness, spinning into galaxies that shrink to the size of ants and you twirl in a blender of being for eternities until finally, at long last, something sticks. Perhaps it may be as simple as a strand of hair, nonetheless all possibility spins around it, flashing contradictions of rainbow transparencies, empty solids and polka dotted space, continuing until a second hair joins the first, clutching to the nothingness and refusing to move. Soon thousands of hairs arrive and synchronize above a scalp unto a face, torso, limbs… materializing ever faster… and at once you are born. And just as the memory of your trial and error experiments and prior life evaporate, you embrace the arms of a stranger, gazing into her eyes, hung between this world and the next… sobbing in a fit of omniscience, in awe of your hard earned shape.

Jacob Reinhardt

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt

Details | Rhyme | |

Yet Another Reflection

I rend asunder and
Crumble into dust
Before my very eyes.

No answers forthcoming
To my many questions,
Most important, "Why?"

"A fool are you,"
I stand thinking.
"There is no disguise."

To worry so about
What matters not
In the by and by.

Trials have strengthened.
Sorrows kept me human.
No point to analyze.

"Life is for living,"
An ultimate truth
I finally realized.

Sooner than later
Might have been better,
Had only I been wise.

I rend asunder and
Crumble into dust....
A twinkle in my eye.

Copyright © Robert Candler

Details | Quatrain | |

Son, I know you by heart

My memory fades like an early morning fog
But you my son I know by heart
The impossible miles you alone have trod
An uphill climb from first breaths start

Fluid filled those vacant places 
Where only your brain should have claimed
Of a viable life the prediction was traces
For a life that would be horribly lame

Those Doctors didn't conceive you
You were mine from beginning to end
I said "he's my son not a knot to undo
When termination was suggested and penned

I loved you then and I know you now
Every obstacle you've overcome
A 3.7 GPA you've made it to manhood somehow
I knew to that prognosis you would never succumb 

Of every therapy under the sun
You would never quit or complain
Though your struggles were bitter and stung
You took pride in the promise of your name

Josiah - Healed by God - 
A humble man in the kingdom of men
Now I see you promised to a beauty
The wife I hoped for you then

Soon your quest to be a teacher
When you've earned your final degrees
In the eyes of our future you'll be a leader
The proof of what belief can achieve

Your spirit is tenderness
Your ways are sweet
You abound in being real and generous
And acquire the love of all that you meet

My son with eyes filled of turquoise and brown
Know this... if my memory entirely in time depart
My pride in you will forbear my lips to frown
For my son, I know you by heart! 

Copyright © Sarai Romani

Details | Free verse | |


I stayed there, for too long
in the cruel arms of a sunset
that had forgotten I was there.
Its wink slowly cast an itchy
blanket over the hope I had found
in blue skies; My skin reached upward,
blistered by the groan of mortality’s tick.
There is little time to waste.
The turn, once again left me in the dark,
grappling with solitude among the masses. 
And so I waited for starlight’s touch to 
calm the sandstorm in my bones.
Waited for the battle between light
and dark, so I could paint my eyes
with the blood of a new vision
for tomorrow and be ready to perceive 
everything that I had once, let slip away.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.

Copyright © James Kelley

Details | Rhyme | |

What does Maisie smile about

What Does Maisie Smile About?

(or A Tale of 3 Ladders)

“I wonder what Maisie smiles about, 
when she stares out of her window?”asks Jane, 
the new carer at St. Mary's, is curious,
about the aged figure watching the rain

Maisie is deep in her thoughts today,
“Maisie, Maisie”, her Grandpa cries,
“these ripe apples won't pick themselves you know!”
and up the long ladder her young legs rise                                 (1st ladder)

Autumn, in the golden orchard of yesteryear,
the warm setting sun, the birds and the bees,
the grown ups, all so merry with chatter,
Maisie and friends, all playing at ease

Such happy days of Autumn sun,
of foraged blackberries and apple cake,
of sweet plum puddings and then,
apple with cheddar  in the same bake

The adults, merry now, and all a dance,
the tree house ladder calls the young throng,                           (2nd ladder)
the boys scatter 'jacks', the girls make 'cat's cradle',
then all descend to skip in time to song

This is what I reminisce about,
and my time is far from past, you see,
I hear them, calling me, up that final ladder, 
“Maisie, your young legs will soon be free!”

Not long now, as I grow so very tired,
I will shed my 'costume' of aged joints so sore,
and return again to the young girl that I really am,
and sprint up those ladder rungs once more!                            (3rd ladder)

Mrs Cheryl Darby 2015

Copyright © Cheryl Darby

Details | Rhyme | |



My earliest memory, it certainly seems, is something I don’t want to boast. 

Cold, lonely and dormant and finite and boring, I grew tired of playing the ghost.

I pondered and wondered and questioned myself. Was this a fruitless endeavor? 

It’s about that time that I realized, that time was meant to be clever.

As the sunbeams moved and the cosmos proved, to give, I had nothing left. 

I regarded in awe as it started to thaw. I recoiled, retired and wept.

I’m spread too thin, through out the cosmic winds; I struggle to hold my grip.  

For a thin spread fabric pulled too tight, is surely destined to rip.

Now all for one and one for all, has always been lost in its meaning. 

But as time charges on and all matter is gone, the hope will still remain gleaming.

I leave you with this, last anecdote, May you cherish it amongst your lore. 

I never invented happiness. The choice was always yours.

Copyright © Adam MacKay

Details | Free verse | |

The Philosopher

The Philosopher

Under caress of weak firelight,
with warm luster in weary eyes,
he pleads again, for Erotic favour,
upon a lasting theatre of ink and dust.

Actors and actresses, who bear names of Enigma,
are keen to follow, those mellow steps of Play,
for their lines will inscribe, the letters of time.

Though he may fade,
Sophia will remember.

~ Nino Kadic

Copyright © Nino Kadic

Details | Haiku | |


Clock ticks silently,
Morning turning to night time,
Skin starts to sag.

Copyright © Kelvin Mc Laughlin

Details | Rhyme | |

Insane Love

Insane, insane what follows old
A tragedy yet to be told.
Though ye walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
It is love that we most of all must bequeath.
Amongst green pastures grows a flowering field
One not tainted by what this life yields.
Some where in the withered forget-me-knots
It lives long enough to be what it ought.
A shining prince upon a silver steed
Riding home to find that which was decreed.
Nothing more than just a thought
Of something born here in Camelot.

Oh mastery of misery art thou my friend?
Do we have so much to gather or defend?
Send us upon this grievous plain
To battle all that must be regained.
Oh ported soul of Arthur’s gallant lot
Send to us the dear Sir Lancelot.
He be the bravest of all heart,
His bravery known right from the start.
He hast no legend braved in fear
Doing the right by his lady Guinevere.
Life deals us such a broken art
Of a re-painted love here in Camelot.

The quest be of ill fated charms
Where love survives the coat of arms.
To be so brave is to be a slave
Fighting for the thing we crave.
For no coat of arms can delay
Love’s onslaught once on display.
For to pour the grail back into the flask
Would be to hold love as a captured task.
For ‘tis love that captures all at last.
And nothing loved can ever truly pass.
Though the lance laid silent Lover Lancelot
His secret survives him here in Camelot.

Copyright © Jim Carpenter

Details | Free verse | |

Light On the Devil's Chord - Day 11

In a sudden nodding shift,
I was lifted into the air by the hard wings of the Devil
His putrid stench waking me from what seemed all dream
And upon a balcony of singed vine and blackened soot,
He set me standing
The persistent chirping and buzzing,
Wailing and crying from the maelstrom gnawed my gut
As my eyes opened to this new creation  
Swooping swiftly beside me, a tower of jagged filth and beauty all in one,
He looked down upon me, and out at the parted maelstrom,
And the mighty blue-green light pulsating periodically in golds and reds
Emanating in the center of its massive attachment on the walls of the pit
I stood beside him, in awe of my placement,
In awe of such a purpose now,
A moment that seemed so peaceful, yet full of plot and rot
For he rots and rots in his pit, delightful of it
Estranged from the light, and still intrigued by its merge with his nasty night
By the collaborating genius of his spite, and my light

“Look here, woman,
At the breathing entity before you,
How I breathe like you, sing like you, dream like you
And yet we are parted by such a thing as order
That in the command of your God you stand resilient before me
Splitting my maelstrom to merge with your light
And in turn releasing in me, confusing delight
I am most fortunate to attain such a pleasure as this
That He in such faith has put you before me,
To prove we cannot ignite each other 
To prove we cannot delight each other
Did He so believe you would sing these duets,
With sustaining soul and heart,
Without a withered doubt to part
To mark your superiority and strength,
Gainst a prisoner of art…”

I gazed at the masterpiece before me,
Having only heard his song in the background of the increasingly loud buzzing
And my eyes turned to face his gaze, 
For the masterpiece he beheld, was a masterpiece he wished to graze 

“I have suffered lesions of doubt in my past life, Prince,
Entities of darkness swarming like the insects buzzing in your maelstrom,
Their almost human temperaments convincing downfalls I was cursed with
How we are not as righteous as the next prisoner of sin
How we are no different, no special, and nobody wins…
I am not sad that you are here, Devil,
I do not grieve you like a poor kitten in a drainpipe, 
Like a wounded bird screeching for its wings to bring it upright,
You have brought this residence of woe onto yourself, 
And for that I cannot apologize, 
I cannot sympathize,
Or recognize the true feelings your trampled heart forays
I have risen above such angry, bitter and blackened thoughts,
To make need and necessity crave for spirit of truth,
To rest in virtuous contemplation of a heartier creation…
I look out upon this parted maelstrom and see your allowance of my light,
Though I know you cannot fully appreciate what it means to love,
To appreciate the sheer brilliance of its swell,
Its contrast of color from the green-blue fires, 
To the gaping swirls and screams of your hell
I do not feel sorry for what you have done,
But for what will become of you
In the ending times,
Where I will say goodbye

We shant meet upon this balcony as we do today,
Watching our creation, and singing through the fray
I will see no more the long wings, 
The pulsing rings, and the fetid stings 
 You are a lion who will not retreat
And I am a lion who refuses to eat…”

Staring off into the beaming light, 
His eyes trailing detailed swirls of screaming victims,
Hands and feet wriggling in the muck,
The monsters swimming, biting and grinning
He guided my hand to the center of my light

“See the shadows cast within the light you mast,
Your God fought me to never see how they danced,
How I serving He would always last, 
That even the heartiest angels could never surpass
See how the light fights to subsist with my subordinates
How it merely sustains to point out the beauty of each flaw
How it reveals the true evils within,
How it mocks with righteous piety
The Achilles' heel of sin
Without the light in this dark, 
Have I a place to retreat? 
Till Your God has blessed me,
Teased me, with a lioness so prone to me
See us dance in the center between dark and light
How none leads the other,
How none crests or smothers…
This is the Domination Age woman,
Where soon my gates will be open,
Where soon, even your light cannot remain so bright
Gainst the growth of the grin of my beastly scheme
I don’t need you to be sorry for me, woman!
Only awed, inspired, enlightened! 
How this new revelation reveals command only in hiding
You are no longer lion, dreadful daughter in my sight
You are a leech, a vermin, ready to eat, retreat and reveal
You are the messenger to all you stand up for
A slave, in a way, to understanding this bottomless me…”

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal