Looming—- in the shadows of time, skeletons of a haunted past, like Satan’s fury—- they test and tease, taunting and afflicting until he’s pleased. This plaguing past that will not die, shall eat me from way down inside, it travels—- flamed obsession—- My head it whirls and twirls about, it stalks my smitten soul, I try to rid these tentacles of time, but still it slithers—- there it lurks—- a staring stranger, forcing, reaching, grabbing, glaring—-
I’d like to think the past is gone, but still—- it shall remain taboo, always there, can never undo.
The emerald blades of grass Glisten softly in the sun, With a color wheel of wild flowers Dancing in the wind. Ice blue skies with feathers of clouds Gently floating by. The sand creates a blanket, That lies wrinkled under me, While the sound of sleepy waves Cradle me to slumber.
With slowness I walk, a dimness so gray, the air is a coolness, that lasted all day. Low hung the clouds, the darkness reached down, then sprung back and faded, as the air moved around. Lighter grew the evening, and air warmed the soul, and hung but just a moment, ’til evening turned to coal.
I sat on the beach and counted grains of sand, but then the wind took them and they flew from my hand, perhaps I should refrain, from acting in disdain, some things should not be counted just enjoyed from day to day.
The little things that worry crawl and bite like ants, but then a shoe stomped them and they fell from my pants, perhaps I should rely, on Jesus not the lie, because He is the only one to help me when I cry.
I stand before a hall with many gateways, deciding which to choose grips hold my mind, waiting to pounce life’s lioness awaits, or could it be the love of one so kind. Decisions rock on waves so vast and fraught, just open one and peer inside to see, so in I walk without thinking or thought, ’twas a lioness charging after me. I spun to run the door it laughed and shut, revealing darkness shadows playing and such, a light beamed round a corner calling out, so I followed but found the light of doubt. perhaps if I had thought decisions through, I would have gained a love so great and true.
Mist arises from a grave unknown here, tickling my mind so curiously, then winds of thought spread far yet hovers near, covering beauteous scents tapping me. The sun lifts high and pulls the mist away, and now grass sparkles on the brink of day, flowers spotted diamonds of morn’s soft dew are natures way of mixing its perfume. A tiny cold nips at the finger tips, while the sun prickles with warming tickles, and the ocean of skies set forth the dyes of bluish color hues as if on cue. But alas a cloud of gray comes rushing with storm winds pelting and rains a gushing.