The Mercy Of God I cannot see what may harm me yet I am unharmed. I do not do What's right But yet I am fruitful. I fail But still win. I stop many times but still finish. I reap where I do not sow. I know The Mercy of God.
Author: Simone
Loves to tell and hear untold stories about people, places and experiences!
Black
My power comes from you my strength is hewn from your relentless authority I see myself now as priority. I am important I'm a big deal. I know where I stand on the pinnacle of power that I can command the very devil to disbanned and flee from me. No need to chop nor toe the line I find my peace I know I will not cease in the beauty of your lines and shadows. I am Black.
Believe
I accept what I cannot see touch or feel. I know I don't know but I will go to where ever I should be. I have this dream stars aligned for me I see but not clearly but I know it is for me. I believe...
Home
Where do you go when you don't know where to go but you need to know which why to go? A place to be comforted loved accepted? Where? Should we go?
A Series of Unfortunate Events?
Yes! To freedom I shimmy I glide, plier etendre releve sauter tourney elancer just watch me stride. A puddle in my way? oh no, nothing to stop my shine. Too fast! But the beat... Too high! But the breeze... I squeal! I reach! Pure delight. Midway I freeze... Oh no! my steam! That Je ne sais quoi... Gone. now, how, do I dance with me?
But for the Grace of God
There goes a young boy with spring in his cheeks and the glow of the Sun he sees an old soul going slow not vital enough to make a show sweeps him aside "Old man you must go death awaits!" The old man shakes his head he understands seeing brings the young dread - they too one day - if they survive - will be like him. There is too much pain today and so into the corner he is swept for days on end. Then he goes further up the road - an accident. Slowly he moves closer. Ah it is the young man! His glow now diminshed winter haunts him now He has been brought to an early end: "there but for the grace of God go I"
Unbearable Loss
Withered hands on withered lands infertile with blood. Snipped bud attract carrion crows they move slow but seem to know the marching dance of loss. A knife twisted the attempt and the deed defeats us. A river forged blood let blood washed all guilty brainwashed by decaying dreams and nightmarish bliss accuses us all: how much did we know?
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