Photo by Darwis Alwan on Pexels.com

When I trip over the threshold

And fall back into settled dust

May my last breath swirl a bit

As if it still held- its holy magic

May setting of my last sun linger

A bit longer than was my normal

May sporadic drops of rain- fall

From cobalt tint cloudless skyline

May the scent of pine and flowers

Flood over the meadows of green

May oceans repeatedly be ripped

In waves of sorrow tided away

May all my past gentle whispers

Touch your heart… for all of time   


Poet of the Light © 2022


8 thoughts on “Missioned

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