HiddenA Poem by LisaEveSpiritual Philosophy
Theres a need to be stealth, hidden till harvest like death is to darkness and spelt is to wheat.
Mustard seed. So that words are of worth like an abundance of wealth that feeds the whole world like a bundle of sheaves. In much grumbling there’s sin and if we look we will see that there in that minute it’s impatience that speaks. Be still. Quite the soul so that it has freedom to breathe. If we were more loyal to our desires we wouldn’t be fooled by their impostors that speak. Idols of Isis. Blinding the iris. Lives in a crisis but pride subsides all reasonable critique. We no longer find satisfaction in mystique but go along with the masses like real doesn’t matter, attracted to chatter like a burial wreath. © 2012 LisaEveReviews
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2 Reviews Added on November 1, 2012 Last Updated on November 1, 2012 AuthorLisaEveMelbourne , AustraliaAboutI'm not a poet. I just like writing down my thoughts in a way that rhymes. It's my way of bringing order to what I feel and think instead of blurting out chaotic emotion for the sake of being heard, .. more..Writing
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