Somewhere between the love line there is love.
Somehere between the life line there is release.
Thunder came and sweeps branches away,
woodpeckers hence to sell for a penny a day,
given sea shells back to the sea.
People lives in vain.
As Job had suffer.
Ask Questions in despair,
as if a dramatist were writing the play.
But infinite wisdom appeared.
Strange that questions belong,
to a natural order,
that no more understood,
the vast of plan in universe,
than a mouse nibbling the hammers
on a piano can uderstand.
Why anyone disturbs the peace
by playing the keys,
for in the end
it is a last act
that crowns the play.
Yet we know that settle
for a shadow,instead of the substance,
the fraction instead of the whole.
The temperal rather then the eternal,
in beating the wings in a cage.
What is at fault of the mind
accepts that extreme hapinness
is a defeat of love.
No matter which is given,
for there is a chance,
in this world,
to stay,in never give up,
in wait and see
for the bigger picture.
As Thompson said.
Full panoplied in womanhood.
Inspiration by bishop Fulton.
Fiction.
(199 Words)
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