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stream of conscience

The thought of you crosses my mind from time to time,

And how I would reacted if I saw you on the streets.

Would you hold significance, or would I be left feeling stranger?

I wish you nothing but the world, but our worlds cannot mesh,

Like the times we abandoned our day time dress,

and escaped the pitfalls of our love and less;

always feeling second best.

I have come to terms with my regrets and mistakes,

And I no longer bend and shake when I think of your embrace.

I must move forward with hands held open, and my head held high;

Until my savior screams and radiates the sky with holy tattoos upon his thighs,

Like Odysseus, I will stuff my ears with wax and bind my flesh to rafts,

To save myself from what my eyes have idolized,

Lord break my hands and feet and make me one of your sheep,

So that I may not depart or retreat; Lord you make me meek,

there is no power of hell, nor scheme of man that could ever pluck me from your hand,

Lord help me to dwell in this departed land,

and count every blessing upon my hands.