Worry
Lanquid my soul
For the forest I pass through
Is dense with yesterdays numbered
When silenced by worry
I bore no fruit from my labour.
Now in the thought of life's shortness
And hoped for tomorrows
I lay my doubt down
And the forest begins to blossom
With the passion of my purpose.
(c)--Christina Cowling
posted by Anonymous @ 4:50 PM
1 comments
The 
1 Comments:
Given our current circumstances this piece resonates Christina. In all the works I have read about survival it is hope and purpose which are essential ingredients. And there is nothing quite like facing 'the thought of life's shortness' to fuel purpose.
Post a Comment
<< Home