My skills burrow in my soul
Nestled with laughter and sewn into the world of deeds
My destiny pursues its own tools
Some say the best is saved for last
Im here to remark at a glance on my fountain
That endures and sacrifices its best each day
And I cannot rest until the mount of deliverance appears to me
and reaches into the depth of the ocean so blue with the truth of perception
Someday I will write like the fate says to the worksmith
There is never too much sanding or too much perfection
The craft is but an arch of placid dreams and hopes
What is left untouched can be seen tomorrow
Brilliantly holding to the clouds In the sky
And a rainbow of insight settles in my eye
as I decide to possess what lifts me to write again


Posted by in Poetry