Waiting

we talk about existence like we talk about the concept of time trying to encode our souls in something we do not believe in patterns seem to make rings around the heart of the flesh the soul of the wind my lips stay loose for the right words to slip its way through but what is a thought but a creation we waited for but what is a thought but a creation that we are waiting for …because waiting is the message of Creation we write with existential pens we love with an intensity the heavily depends on the input-output laws of equilibriums can we really see? can we really feel? can we really exist? my flesh becomes a reason to hate myself and to hate myself becomes a reason to breathe i want to be broken without the feeling of insecurity but God wants broken vessels. that’s what the past said to me…. ”I am a broken vessel.” God is a broken vessel so we twist our fingers to match the rhythm of the pulse so we lose our minds to erase the words that made up the original thought and I continue to find myself to find God to leave clues for the past life to find God the Moment. No One Attending Will Ever Be The Same….. -Destiny the Poet