Below is the poem entitled A Spirtual Warrior, prayer which was written by poet
Borgo. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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God of most spoken literature and default,
frozen and site as peace was the crown,
Light of revealing smiles,
I as a man look to heaven above,
Like a sonnet of defrost ice,
that prove there something is stiill above my kinging thoughts,
and lost material.
Last of the saints and many eyes held high,
founder of revolve plate stand still do to lack of gravity,
my thought grow in patient of rules,
like the souls of the warrior priest,
stunt and honor,
only to the heavens to trinty meet this deed.
what more can man i ask but plenty lost hands of trees.
bless it and translation the belly of the beast from east,
with such sand to mount a 1, ooo diease fill find beads,
god where is this hand?
bless it again to know the words of the garden
and the creature that once live,
i hope that history never fold in meaning as we see fit!
counterpart, business and chancher what wars could be for saw through man eyes,
I question the fold of the deck of cards,
please reap to the barrier of lost soul.
Dividend in passage ultimately salavation,
start which the eyes of our lords lost and barring fruit,
hearts of all hearts look to know what a saint is but for me...,
my self would dine last to see chance of man will and god,
bless me again for the words i speak once again,
Moving the crown to frowns of the holy spirt,
dampated from the fire of the well, left with mystery of?
or you could call it a sinner misfortune,
rich with style,
appeal in darkness and swim to profanation,
sparkle as wine should,
noise loose to up due a crowd lookes to ruinies,
the color of sky and sweep the wind to ashes and the sky is left roaten,
where is the
hand of god
fruit left by limits,
the staff of wrath shacking to point to the direction of lost tactics,
fitting as the back of quick sand what obsession,
could hear this angel sing,
This the legacy of a thosand saint march, with white horse and the immortal weapon
where is this last son that the bible speak of, genesis 2: 13,
the river of gihon seek sin
good grace, food and shelter,
salt of lost throne,
keys that hold no barrier where is a lost soul to at sea,
what men of all men would endurance such hurt,
in the eye of the kindom it not women that knows there place but better yet the soul
of a man,
bless the hearts of all men....