Just something to Ponder

Distance cries of the motherland
Our footprints carry messages of what the Father sent.
Receipts of the life force we have aimlessly spent .
Worshipping the whip that has broken your back and left your soul with a dent.
Left to resent the present as regret takes a sniff of your happiness leaving bitterness in the lessons learnt.
Attention span too short to keep a church- going- knee bent.
We all walk around with stones where our hearts used to be ,singing ," the world is not what it used to be".
In all the abstract self destructive tendancies we feed, we forget about what we could be, what the world could be.