In time, My eyes will grow tired and old.
And my hands will hold one another.
My logic will grow from torrents of time
and my thoughts will learn to commit no crime against a
word.
In time I will reserve attempts at romance.
I will balance a mile in my hand.
I will read Charles Dickens “Great Expectations”
and learn through mistakes where I stand.
I will not die on the end of a rope
though the noose I’ve tied and will tie would hold.
I will learn to live Dickens and time.
I will not die from a scratch on my wrist
and I will sigh. I know I will sigh.
I know I will sigh because I have sighed.
And I know because I’ve never died.
The Estella or Esteĺĺa or some West Coastal state
and the breeze against my eyes they’ll all make me cry.
And time makes me want to read more of the same
and the sight of my ropes make me tired and tame.
And when I grow old I will know how to soar
to sigh and to read with Calli amor.
-anonymous
Yeah, so I came across that poem and thought it was great... what do you think?
Oh God, if only I knew Your plans... Why this trial? Why these temptations and stupidities? Only You know...
This a great song, please take the time to listen:
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