The messenger by Toni-Ann Sabrina Lima With eyes like mirrors of dreams that foretell whence, And the story keeper, that collects as a historian... The symbols that links real numbers to make sense... Chosen by no religion, led by an unseen Hand... One who walks apart from the common clique, And cries inward tears recognizing familiar secrets... Trying to Run and walk away from the calamities of the weak, What is good and bad decisions...all flow in streams of regrets... Huddled In corners of dark curtained rooms, Afraid to speak the words that karma has inferred... Seeing and feeling in the sites of a thousand dooms.... Trying to pay for the sworded tongue that deciphered... Connecting circles and dots across stars in space, Always that key symbol that stands outside of the brackets... To find and bring elements together is the frustrating chase, Seems like walking a lifetime of ever changing stage sets... Important messages are but words, that we need to communicate, They carry our visions of dreams from one source to another... The messenger is but a middleman of the feeble mind state, Who rides a bicycle backwards in twilight hours on crystal water... He sighs in considering all the history of Lifes screen, Riding his bike backward to see stars suspended in heaven... Amazed at the splendor of glittering hope seen.... And somehow he again misses the turn into paradise round the bend...
Posted on: Thu, 05 Jun 2014 02:26:24 +0000
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