There’s a chain on my point of view,
contained by perspective’s shady skew.
Found peace pouring into The Puddles Of God’s Speech.
A sidewalk screaming at me,
but I can’t see ahead of me.
The rain lets up.
I ease my gaze from outdoor view
and feel the solace of the windows cue,
His speech once more.
A moment we had, rejoice and be glad-
For these are the times we know
what keep and what to throw (away).
So wisdom stings
like the tearing of butterfly wings.
Wings I cannot see beyond
the sidewalk of falls
and knee-scrape heartbreak.
Wisdom is the chance
to breathe in a cool summers breeze,
while standing up on tattered knees.
