|
| |
That Beauty Craves It's Place
That beauty craves it's place
alive with white light
You
walk the tightrope
we live with lines of change
so fast
seem to want it all
not ever knowing what "it" really is
making judgments based on uncertainty
we lean on history
consoled in the repetition of mistakes
seeing them engraved in stone
like markers in a cemetery
passed on to one another (concepts)
passed on, souls, one to another (lives)
a spark that fills matter
precious life
precious life
Too sacred to destroy.
Copyright ©
Jack Andrews
|
|