I am not who you think I am
But am the who that I am
And the coming to be of more
For the belly of my soul craves
In hunger for the divine wisdom
And guidance that is poured
From God’s overflowing cistern
Spilling out onto the dry sponges
Of souls awaiting the hydration
Of awareness and inspiration
To be likewise squeezed out
Onto other awaiting dry sponges
Of dehydrated empty spiritual souls
Needing the following wetting rhyme
To be saturated with every needed time:
Grief and despair you’re not to harbor
To do so is to jam-jar destructive horror
Remember you are a spiritually bound sailor
Sailing waves to shores frothing away failure:-
As memory is said to be nourished
With instructive rhyme
In every debilitating vicious trying time
Keep this one in mind.