Our path may be short or a long one


Our path may be short
Or a long one

We think of our end
As of a song

Beautifully played
Till we grow old

The garden filled with snow
Say wisdom, and appropriate love

The water, tasteless and void
Of touch

Leaves, fearless with whisper
Of no gun

Shadow of no lust
Robe of purple form

There, our breath would find
Its conceived love

Knees would fall
Wounded on the long walk
And to their speech, a new voice


Image courtesy: http://www.pininterest.com


About Michael Ogundele

A writer, ardent reader and lover of nature. fell in love with writing five years back and I've been engraved in her arms ever since. I share my little way of writing poetry and reflections based on Catholic faith and Spirituality on this space. I hope you enjoy reading as we ride the same chariot to the leafy greens. Do follow me and together, let us jump into the ocean of my ink.
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