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5
Born on a Circumference
Varied Directions, Encompass
Preying Beliefs in turn, Building Stature
Fed five loaves and two fish to suffice
I still couldn’t fathom tomorrow’s mete
So I set sail on the endless sea of travails
Hoping for right motions stirred up by emotive gale
Worldly trails, lead me to dig up roots of consequence
Sitting on this crown, looking for riches to further attest
Through sudden pangs inflamed, I curse what begets in setting
Abandoned in wake, I couldn’t recall this break
Disheartened, I fashion fallacious suffuse to bear me
On this plush throne I shift my balance, in confusion
Though this smite, that smarts me again, is from outside
I must forever turn the other cheek to comprehend…..
Why I ran a race to last, relishing the first place, afterwards?
