AND for every memory whose hands have touched
my hungry lonely moments; I am always here,
between laughter and weeping; singing and
shouting. Just today (which I realize is
everyday in eternity) I walked across a crack
that contained my soul; the sidewalk made of
gold. And while I write feeble words to express
emotions that are unobtainable the other more
whole piece of my heart is sleeping in a distant
land; a place where upon the grace of God
laid a golden egg that born my true peace and
happiness. Her love constructed my world
before she was born and before I knew her
human name. The indescribable has a song
and colors and feelings; the light between
swaying branches of a tree; the smell of a
new word; the touch of tender sight and
undying kisses from a breeze from nature.
Knows.
And we are the children yet to be born.
And some who are grown but dead children.
The unknown.
:: 09-13-2017 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 