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He Speaks Through Me

as a seed was dropped into the atmosphere it took root as I grew
although those many years have passed still I have every reason to grasp
the mere notion of a whisper and that of a smile
to know all the great while the Willows tree waves through the breeze
he speaks through me when time is rough and its hard to commerce
in little things that the mere sadness brings in view of a thrill
as in Autumn the climax of the leaves turning the human hearts are forever burning
onto yearning amidst life's tragedy & pain
the melodic fixture on the wall seems to me ten feet tall
wild union of the Albatross as it nestles in the warmth of the sky
very often in my dream he is there as a figure to embrace
the lonely heart of faith with its twists and turns
one soul soars while the other is soon to be burned

braided green ivy dashes out on the spectrum of the patio
teaching me pleasant things in the way I should go
can't even cope to dismiss this earthly bliss in a time well spent in thought
with rain that implodes on my head to insight
forgetting the night and the day is far spent
there is great beauty in his eyes one hand to hold a heart will mend
slowly we grow to depend on pleasant laughter prepared for the great here after
one in twain yet marked on its blotted page clearly intact
silence is golden when we need a shoulder to cry
a passerby wanders alone in the night
snap shot memories of our past having so much fun with a hope that it would last

as he sits enthroned in light of illumination of the heavenlies
suddenly I grasp for breath onto the mere notion of love
love is the pure essence of my meager existence learn to shun its resistance
out of every circumstance let's learn to take part in the dance
wholesome brevity of the way things used to be amidst a blatant lonely society
it's still inside of me the madness of my thickened conquest
all of life seems to be a test
as if blackened holes filled with dots
everything is captured in a thought
many people just tend to think a lot
yet life is a wave filtered in a dream where people tend to scream
perhaps we are plants ready to blossom in the sun
others live in some paradox filled with fun

He speaks to e when in the night being so very cold
then you will do as you are told until the very rights to you are sold
blessings flow through his small but still voice all of life is but a choice
many equate logic for that in fear but he still brought me here
some if not many reak the very stench of death left as road kill
yet he is there in the midst in order to avoid a Satanic twist
what is my last heart felt final wish ?
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Submitted by hitalot on November 06, 2017

2:35 min read

Mario William Vitale

Mario William Vitale is a twentieth century poet. He has developed a style of free verse. Has written over one thousand poems. more…

All Mario William Vitale poems | Mario William Vitale Books

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