THE PIN
Arriving at the space
Where everything hinged
I saw it...flapping in the wind
Around and back, again
I took out the pin
And watched matter
Fly in all directions
Motions and potions
Casting out for perfections
Stuck with the pen
Trying write a program
That will return power
To ideas that must form and live
Within every passing hour
One prick of the pin
Blood will surface
Those hungry to eat, will rise
Gathering nothing more
Than pesty flies
To the pen
....SPIRIT WINS!!!
Written by Trudy Schrader
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