If I knew life expectations I would not be written the words that follow my mind by pen, an the aches that come alone with judging ones on life, as the ink stains the soul of my words,
I can see the sentence that starts it all in my thoughts, as I am at a lost for the truth, because like an echo it repeats itself back to you, and the images you see somehow frightens the picture that projects the photo on your page,
Between the belief and the pain, what comes to be is the words that some how reflect not only your name, but the past and present, as it prays for the future to be a little more kindler and gentle to the path that you will take,
Walking, you see the marks of your crawls, knowing that it is those times you have cried in heart ache, sorrow, and happiness, but it is the happiness that brings you back to the living,
Living, I see a world of gifts that have not passed me by, an that is when I know that heavens has shined down on me again, as it says in this paragraph, life is what you make of it, and love is what is giving to you, so peace will ease your soul, as will understanding of lifeís passes that will not undo your future,
And belief refreshes me, again.