TripThruUreWires
I serve MacPhisto
here's a little something i put down on paper recently:
Stare not over your shoulders,
Yet, be careful, dear child,
To never fixate your eyes forward in life--
Psychology's perilous panacea.
Mask the mirrors,
Flee your reflection as well,
While made in My image
You've been torn and tattered
By the thorns of human propensity.
Never having been shoved,
But ever the mild masochist,
You invariably stroll into those same traps,
Just as summer reaches its climax by
Doubting the sun's power and perseverance,
And, in turn, relinquishing its heaven-ordained reigns to fall.
Not one to expose wounds and hurt,
Or the oft shrouded source of one's injuries,
Without the respective relief and cure,
I am making you acutely aware
Of the cumulative effects of your ways--
In the most beautiful of ways.
In spite of all your shortcomings,
Magnified in that treacherous mind of yours,
A cache of silver and gold,
Lovingly and purposefully interwoven in your soul
Upon conception of you in My perfect mind,
Sits dormant, untapped.
Brilliant, luminous glimpses of which have been unveiled,
Much dependent on the weather,
Contingent, more specifically, on those manic, mysterious breezes
That just so happen to carry you several steps easterly at dawn.
Be encouraged though child, be joyful!
Look up already!
Didn't you know?
A bright and sunny day exists,
Forecast prior even to the tradition of time,
A day of permanence,
Borne, not of Mother Nature's good will,
Nor man's manufactured optimism,
But instead, of My perfect love of you.
Stare not over your shoulders,
Yet, be careful, dear child,
To never fixate your eyes forward in life--
Psychology's perilous panacea.
Mask the mirrors,
Flee your reflection as well,
While made in My image
You've been torn and tattered
By the thorns of human propensity.
Never having been shoved,
But ever the mild masochist,
You invariably stroll into those same traps,
Just as summer reaches its climax by
Doubting the sun's power and perseverance,
And, in turn, relinquishing its heaven-ordained reigns to fall.
Not one to expose wounds and hurt,
Or the oft shrouded source of one's injuries,
Without the respective relief and cure,
I am making you acutely aware
Of the cumulative effects of your ways--
In the most beautiful of ways.
In spite of all your shortcomings,
Magnified in that treacherous mind of yours,
A cache of silver and gold,
Lovingly and purposefully interwoven in your soul
Upon conception of you in My perfect mind,
Sits dormant, untapped.
Brilliant, luminous glimpses of which have been unveiled,
Much dependent on the weather,
Contingent, more specifically, on those manic, mysterious breezes
That just so happen to carry you several steps easterly at dawn.
Be encouraged though child, be joyful!
Look up already!
Didn't you know?
A bright and sunny day exists,
Forecast prior even to the tradition of time,
A day of permanence,
Borne, not of Mother Nature's good will,
Nor man's manufactured optimism,
But instead, of My perfect love of you.
good one
