Fighters Grip


Look to the ground of the grass so green, the soft and moist of rain drops at feet. I close my eyes and take it in, the feeling and breathe in and out. The smell of flowers from a near by bush and the tree that travels up to the sky.

Sunlight rains upon my youth as clovers dance through breeze of shouts. I paint the image in my mind and meditate to meet in sky. Where the clouds dance around my frame and gentle birds do kiss my face.

The heaven shines it’s holy light and flight I take upon and out, the journey to the wakened state. My mind regains it’s lost files, of brains remain. Immortal standing on the sun, I feel no pain from where I’m from.

I rain in stars and dance on moon and play a fiddle to the golden sun and angels come to sing in song. I find a place where I belong, in the stars I sit on mars. Logic laughs a thought that plays, “There are no men on mars I see.” So where did they all come from. I head to Venus and rest on she and there I stand with truth I squeal. For I am woman on Venus now.

So when I feel I’m on the ground, I lift thee up and make them proud, for I do shine on mountain top. I do rise when I do fall, for a fighters grip is a cowards call. So I do brave my feet to stand and I do climb as high I can. For I can rise above these falls, for a fighters grip is a cowards call.

 

Spit It Out!

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s