S'okay.
You couldn't be there, but Someone Else eventually was.
And yeah. It's a bunch of why I have Harpy infestations and take in stray kids from time to time.
"You Gotta Share Your Good Stuff!"
My Frequent Prayer
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
My eyes are stained glass windows,
God’s light shines to my soul.
With every breath I take,
I thank God for my role.
I have a part to play, you see.
With loneliness around.
For every only child I know,
A brother he has found.
There’s music in the world, I hear,
A drumbeat booms within my chest.
I’m mindful that God wrote the score,
With every drummer’s rest.
And flutes there are, and fifes so sweet,
That glide across the day.
The feathered players know the tunes,
And never ask for pay.
My friends go by, they’re off to church,
And pray that I will follow.
But water becomes wine to me,
A sacrament to swallow,
And every crust of bread, to me,
Is sacred to behold,
And every coin that comes to me,
I feel is made of gold.
I’m thankful for each breath I take,
With every word I say,
I just wish folks could understand,
That this is how I pray.
NicknamedBob . . . . . . 18 January 2004