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We've been sleeping,
left our better selves,
forgotten what we
should have always held.

Our commotion
littering the design
of God's creation,
invented dreams,
hope turned into schemes,
safety to screams,
the truth rarely breathed.

Plans for us have been made,
body to break,
spirit to tumble away.

Start again, start all over,
pick up the pieces
as we traipse
upon the circle.

We've been sleeping,
left our better selves,
forgotten what we
should have always held.

Careful with them,
these pieces of ourselves,
they're fragile,
who we are
(a truth and a lie)
still One.

Our body's were meant
to bend,
even break,
but never shatter.
What's the matter?
What's the matter?
What's the matter?

Thrice the question comes,
thrice the answer drums!
Set the truth in motion
like a pendulum to come
again and again.

We've been sleeping,
our better selves beneath,
forgotten what We
should have always held.

© 2016 Mark Richard Prime


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© 2016 Mark Richard Prime