Life.
Life has been something of the sort. What "Sort" , I am not completely sure of... It has been said that my place at the table is to serve, not to sit. There comes a time when one loses track of time. The things seen as important today fall quickly away while awaiting things that seem vastly important tomorrow.
Yet I lose the only real thing I have in my life, by looking and hoping for the thing yet to be. For tomorrow is no more real than the grandest fairytale. For while tomorrow can hold virtually anything the imagination can conceive and more, it has no more realistic value about it than snow white and the 7 dwarfs or Santa clause feeding the poor.
The question now becomes, what do I do with my hopes and dreams and everything in between. Well I say to you that I have no answer, but that which comes unnaturally so..."do not worry about tomorrow for tomorrow has enough worries of it's own" and here I say is were I love, and Love, LOVE until the day...the day...the day is over. This might just be the beginning of a dream, whether mine or His, or Hers, or there's that no one has neither thought nor seen.
Life has been something of the sort. What "Sort" , I am not completely sure of... It has been said that my place at the table is to serve, not to sit. There comes a time when one loses track of time. The things seen as important today fall quickly away while awaiting things that seem vastly important tomorrow.
Yet I lose the only real thing I have in my life, by looking and hoping for the thing yet to be. For tomorrow is no more real than the grandest fairytale. For while tomorrow can hold virtually anything the imagination can conceive and more, it has no more realistic value about it than snow white and the 7 dwarfs or Santa clause feeding the poor.
The question now becomes, what do I do with my hopes and dreams and everything in between. Well I say to you that I have no answer, but that which comes unnaturally so..."do not worry about tomorrow for tomorrow has enough worries of it's own" and here I say is were I love, and Love, LOVE until the day...the day...the day is over. This might just be the beginning of a dream, whether mine or His, or Hers, or there's that no one has neither thought nor seen.
