The world is full of tiny books no one bothered to read. Little bricks that no one used. This blog is dedicated to painting the dust that we blow off our brushes...
Monday, August 25, 2008
Sunday, August 17, 2008
"The Caterpillar"
From the complacent clouds neath a blanket of light
From the night sky above, from the stars ever bright,
Comes a call, a longing, nay irrevocable plea,
To the one who lies hidden in an old cedar tree,
For the caterpillar doth keep his place
And thus he slumbers never stirring
Monotonous days and nights enduring
Always from his original shape detouring
Till on beautiful wings the sky he may greet
With his cares to the wind he is longing to meet
And the flowers that bloom with nectar so sweet
Yet the caterpillar doth keep his place
From the night sky above, from the stars ever bright,
Comes a call, a longing, nay irrevocable plea,
To the one who lies hidden in an old cedar tree,
For the caterpillar doth keep his place
And thus he slumbers never stirring
Monotonous days and nights enduring
Always from his original shape detouring
Till on beautiful wings the sky he may greet
With his cares to the wind he is longing to meet
And the flowers that bloom with nectar so sweet
Yet the caterpillar doth keep his place
And now he can feel it! his resurrection is near
to leave his small dungeon to join sky's that are clear
to the greet the world beyond, once again to appear...
and ah... he has begun to break free from his shell
to unlock the door to his previous cell
and away he flies to the suns bright rays
for metamorphosis is over and a butterfly he stays
Akin to the beautification of so unattractive a creature
Gods hand has shaped my grotesque and sinful nature
not have I one thing in my self worthy of the glory men
accept the alien righteousness which by the holy spirit Christ did send
-Written by Alex(no illegal plagiarism)-
to leave his small dungeon to join sky's that are clear
to the greet the world beyond, once again to appear...
and ah... he has begun to break free from his shell
to unlock the door to his previous cell
and away he flies to the suns bright rays
for metamorphosis is over and a butterfly he stays
Akin to the beautification of so unattractive a creature
Gods hand has shaped my grotesque and sinful nature
not have I one thing in my self worthy of the glory men
accept the alien righteousness which by the holy spirit Christ did send
And now that I am out of ideas it is time to say "The End".
-Written by Alex(no illegal plagiarism)-
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