Thursday, November 7, 2019
Confirming the inner world of faith talks.
Every morning it’s the arm and leg we ask for.
The patience to mind your own in happiness is caring.
Attending to the unmistakable path — it’s called the game of love.
I wake up missing you, asking for you, I try so hard you pass me up.
Maybe you don’t have time to fill my cup, it tells me try once more.
You guide me regardless into a deep belief, the illusion’s a relief.
And for the arm I ask, the leg you take — I want it back it’s fate.
What’s the purpose for why you leave? So that I can breathe?
It makes sense by the way the day becomes a breeze.
I was frustrated to ask when the gift was there.
I wake up and another chance to dare.
And be brave for the gift is despair.
Breathe a bridge to get there.
It’s not far, again, breathe.
Let it come at ease.
Foggy for now?
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