Sanctified within decay,
Of all in all of all we pray,
A swift breeze stealing all away,
The simple sight of a new day.

For the wind has all within but naught,
But naught of all enfolded caught,
For truly what impression taught,
Is what of life indeed is sought.

Transformation of anticipation,
To barely beings of expectation,
Leaving all but all of conversation,
Of doubting hearts and condemnation.

 
Copyright © xxspiderpandaxx, All Rights Reserved