writer
My Own Psalm
The Scorpion and The Fish
There was a river by a beach where a fish always swam; the fish swam to the shore each day…looking for something more.
There was a scorpion very fierce as dangerous as he may be, he loved to walk all along that beach.
One day the shimmering fish swam slightly above the waters, the scorpion saw and from that point sought after her.
The acts of passion that this scorpion made could probably have attracted many but not her, not this day.
The scorpion was not sad he simply kept searching the fish was his dream but he wasn’t the type to keep lurking.
This passion was one that never could have been, two different souls though one grasped at the other their only love was that of a sister to a brother.
The scorpion still prays that the fish will come back by but if she does not, he knows God will bring another He could never lose his joy it is far too great a wonder.
I Close My Eyes
Sadness and Joy
Depression is a very strange emotion, it is a sadness that consumes you second by second eating away at your soul and mind. The strangest thing however is not the dark emotions that you feel but instead the joyous ones. Depression gives out a sense of security and warmth, depression wraps you up in it’s arms inviting you back like an old friend. The familiarity of sadness is a comfort i wish dearly to rid myself of… for now though I am alive. My solace is found in my writing so i will write.
Purpose For a Peach
Foolishness at fault, for the failures of mankind we are frivolously fighting and no one seems to mind.
The woman once known was to be wished for by all but all who saw could not see that which was in she.
She is light in a smile the moon to brighten the night, and each and every day I wait for the sun to sift it’s way down so that I may see it, the eyes so brown.
Though this sweat peach may lay burden behind my life I partake in its flavor knowing I have a savior.
Let Me
“S” Sounds
Is it strange to say that “s” is one of the strongest sounds, the way it severs in several way, or slices through what I say.
The “S” when someone speaks silently to your soul, the way it seeps easily through and takes control.
I sit as they tell me that I must stop, but I want to go, I want my own control; and so I tame the titillating sound of “S” I make it mine and I clean up this mess.
The final “S’s” are to be safe and sound,I have learned what I must and my own meaning has been found.