Poetry of Motion
Poetry of motion November, 20, 2018. 9:55 am
To feel useless or helpless, yet so un-benign. Who am I, should be left of unsure. Of me to be there, for none to endure. I am a whisper in space, of what is left that was empty. An everlasting ray of hope, is only a string on which we pull. But pulling does it relive the pain of past. Prayers that are answered give hope, and relief. Riddled with question, yet answered within. Though needing to be wanted, is it really a sin? Go above and beyond, to deliver the need. Of nothing it matters, for not born of greed. I being true of my spirit, and loving of pure. Can be not of to hear it, but really be sure. Loving of living, to resigning of gone. The pain of the giving, though the curtains have drawn. The health of the rapture, and the dawn of the grin. Beauty beloved, in the settled of din. Dischord is an answer, or question benign. Salt of the earth, is it part of the brine. Save beginning to ending, so the starting was fine. With love on the mending, for it really is mine!
Poetry is motion of emotion
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