Here Inside
Here inside am I,
A fragile flower failing,
Hushed and sweetly stilled,
No weeping and no wailing;
Just the throbbing hum of power
Breathing for me in my sleeping,
Giving artificial life
When the shadows get to creeping.
Here inside am I,
A baby barely breathing,
Curled and warmly wrapped,
No tantrums and no teething;
Just the sacred gift of being,
Silent beating night and day,
Born of some far lesser God,
Perfect in some different way.
Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2005
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