GiftA Poem by Francis RosenfeldThe waste builds up as to forget the gift But I return to it like waves to shore When life spews pointless, petty builds, our souls are more.Through all the strain designed to break us down Through all the scuffles of a life constrained One truth remains unchanged, one love remains There is a sacred place in people's lives A place resilient to filth and snare I'll meet you there, in truth, I'll meet you there. The waste builds up as to forget the gift But I return to it like waves to shore When life spews pointless, petty builds, our souls are more. I breathe the air, I touch the ground, I shiver, When warmth and waves reach out to touch my hand I'm born into the miracle of freedom, the gift of a beginning without end.
© 2016 Francis Rosenfeld
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Added on October 10, 2016 Last Updated on October 10, 2016 AuthorFrancis RosenfeldAboutFrancis Rosenfeld has published ten novels: Terra Two, Generations, Letters to Lelia, The Plant - A Steampunk Story, Door Number Eight, Fair, A Year and A Day, Mobius' Code, Between Mirrors and The Bl.. more..Writing
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