The past it can haunt;
making feet drag in mud.
Destructing destinations
possessing light of love.
I linger in memories I
struggle to look ahead.
If my feet they move not
I fear my heart is dead.
The scepter I’ve made,
forged from remembering,
has soiled my humility
stayed newness entering.
What am I if not made
from father time’s hands?
The pieces I keep are
what make me who I am.
Love it!
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Thank you!! 😁
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