Monday, August 5, 2013


First things first
I wait to hear
Inclining to the Master's voice
Daily He speaks
Yet i tarry
Hoping my day is here

'Tired 'doesn't even describe
I'm at my wits end
I know better than to run
Before the starter gun blares
False starts haven't gotten me anywhere
Just back to the beginning

Standing on one spot
Brings despair
A loaded cannon going nowhere
Seemingly equipped for the long haul
Apparently not by the Master's declare
Sadly the world doesn't understand
Difference in life's compere

Axe sharpening at lent 
Afraid that trees will be extinct
Before my day comes
Sometimes i wonder if i've got it wrong
But my insides testify otherwise

I yearn for the peace that comes with the terrain
But somedays the discomfort stirs 
I'm warmed up
My hand stretched backward
Eagerly waiting for the baton
So i can run my bit 
And affect my crowd
Knowing my race i ran
Not to a false finish line.