Ism

 
Dizzing is the way
seeking forever
my secrets scribed inside me
Little faith evolving from doubt
with a neediness of nature
to obscure the revelations being made

Witnesses beauty
beholding the day
within the sacred chambers praying
for a miracle or two

Aware of his presence
I awknowledge his truth
My honesties pale
I am nothing but a misfit child of scorn
winding her way down from a cloud

Lingering too long in Nod
my Father with a puff of wind
blows me homeward