a keen embrace,
versions and newborns and hurt,
an endless stream of words and wondrous replays,
yet no trace of grace...
They paint the fading images
and craft the sinking dunes for those who trust
This life raises contrast highs,
Our version of fault
derives from the very seedly sources
Yesterday's view of humanly worth
resides where none can reach
in our remodeled beliefs in praise,
We call it life...
or in pain, fate...
None of these words
can change our state...
in keeping with
enduring and diminishing beliefs...
That trust is but a minute,
belief resides in seconds,
only beyond the state
we currently crave.
Copyright © Lebo Bopalamo