God, She Was Beautiful - My First

A Life Spent Writing Has Taught Me To Be Wary Of Words. Those That Seem Clearest Are Often The Most Treacherous.

How Do I Pray? I Study A Rose, I Count The Stars, I Marvel At The Beauty Of Creation And How Perfectly Ordered It Is, At Man, The Most Beautiful Work Of The Creator, His Brain Thirsting For Knowledge, His Heart For Love, And His Senses, All His Senses Alert Or Gratified.

Isn't It A Characteristic Of The Age We Live In That It Has Made Everyone In A Way A Migrant And A Member Of A Minority?

In My Prayers, I Want To Say: Lord, Don’t Be Far From Me, And Also Don’t Come Too Close. Let Me Contemplate The Stars On The Texture Of Your Cloth, But Don’t Unveil Your Face To Me. Allow Me To Hear The Rivers That You Send Running, But Lord! Lord! Don’t Allow Me Hearing Your Voice

Let Your Tears Roll Tonight, But Tomorrow You Will Start The Battle Again. What Defeats Us, Always, Is Just Our Own Sorrow.