Beautiful Days

I only want to see the most beautiful of days,
The childhood days of gifting and caring,
Releasing an inner expression of creativity within me
As a gift in every interaction with every Imago Dei.

Everything was suppressed within predictable
False promises, of which, now, leave a rot.
Where the decay takes its strongest grip
Is exactly where freedom once reigned supreme.

These were days with no measurable form,
A time with no time and no reason for categorization,
For the moments within each glowing inspiration
Sustained me with continuous arrivals of affirmations.

I only want to see the most beautiful of days.
They are no longer days, they never were.
They are the clearest embraces of encouragement
Whispering softly to become childlike again.

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Moving Towards A Present Future

And the changing of pasts for futures occurred
The tighter you held onto the present,
Your grip calloused and confused with
Distorting memories filling up your hands.

Forward motion begins to root itself today,
As opposed to the allure of busy reflection,
Utilizing points of interest along a map
Screaming where to go, not where you’ve been.

As it becomes harder to hold on for hope
The clearest passage of time reveals a destination.
Home beckoned the future which is already here,
A Home you neglected, but a Home waiting for you.

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