The seed of the womb grows by time, in a place that can only be touched through the connection of its roots, with expectations to blossom into colorful scenery. The womb of a pattern of tradition passed on from mother to child, the repetition of family. Shattered feelings of lost emotions as a seed with destine to grow old forever is scared. Moments of clarity as thoughts remain about. The seed that should live on forever and ever was unable to be touched by the connection of its roots but yet by the snake that seduced Adam & Eve. Scriptures of words guide those who are in doubt but reality seems to be in first place, as the words of the scripture contradict what has been said and what has been done. Beautiful faces, leaving a world of echoes and cries just to represent a perfect spirit that the earth can no longer place as true beauty, here. Battles are no longer evident to the eye; self-confusion is the norm for all. Arguments of who and what should leave first; invisible shackles placed on hearts; forgive them father for they know not what they’ve done. Heal the womb for the emotional cries within; forgive sinners who traded their silver lining, their wings that grew with them as seeds and lost almighty on the way. In a room, bended knees, hands placed together with sore eyes looking to the sky, up for the seed and the colorful scenery that was promised. Let the grace of tears pour onto this dry soil, the soil that holds a new seed that is trapped in confusion and hate; the soil what is supposed to be the womb that neuters, feels abandoned. Like Judas Iscariot, hurt has paid a way, to be replaced with an enemy named revenge….. Still, agony grows into bitterness, through soft whispers saying, I will never leave you or forsake you. The pain taunts the womb, in a fetal position, dying only to live, living only to die.
Posted on: Sun, 04 Aug 2013 21:14:15 +0000