I sign my name with the loops of the only constant I know
The moon rolls with the sun into my room, I stare struck
Yet the thoughts of the desert still linger, it has been like this
Although before I mused, this time I acknowledged and waited
It seems familiar to me as you comment this is a work of the Lord
In the sand we once said, behold the glory, and all understood
Behold the power and wonder of eternity smiling at you
I ask where is the closet nectar to remind me of the fruits of old
Labor is given to the man to acknowledge his place as architect
Always building symbols, and taking a split second to wink
There are no dry eyes in the house, for the rain fails to quench
One million Worlds thrown asunder and replaced by our hands.
Copyright, 2010, Christopher Baird--all rights reserved.
Contact me for reprint/posting permission.
The man, this man is the work of the Lord in its purest form...no dry eyes, the mist springing from this humble soul is overpowering ♥
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