Christine Phillips | + Follow Poet |
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The Narrow Path

I knew it was you all along, trying to compose a different song, I knew you were standing in the line when the bullets explode into the sky 

Everyone had to run for cover and hold onto what they could find; they use handkerchief to cover their mouth as billows of smoke climb up the roof and encircle the place, where they dug the mass grave. 
 
Screams and shouts echoed in the street and people were running right and left shouting profanities to the blazing sky, shoes scattered on the ground and the goats were flung out of their safety nets lying in the street gasping for breath. 

The grocery store where they always have the disorder and grocer was always cutting corner was no more; he and his grocery store went up in flame and they all perish in the heat before the fire truck came. 
 
Everything was sudden and the heavens was filled with trouble, rockets were not going up, it was the manche that sail through the air that created much fear and the kingdom robe in his gown stood on the other side hugging his bride and counting the harvest and the abundance it brings. And somewhere deep down inside, they found comfort on which to rely. 
 
What on earth could have caused that explosion; it wasn’t a suicide bomber or a pressure cooker; it was a magnifying glass reflecting in the sun that sets off the plastic bottle in the bush that cause that big explosion. Everything thing quite down and the first responder left the town and everyone was homeward bound.  
 
The narrow path saved their lives, the narrow path made much sacrifice, the narrow path knows how to roll the dice, and when you get lost get back on the narrow track and you will obtain the victory that you seek. 

The narrow path is where you score goal.

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