A Drop Of Saline

Blessed like all. My share of His greatness.

When I was young I cried -
Not because I wanted any attention.
I didn't cry for candy nor dresses,
Not for playmates nor toys. 
When I was young I cried -
After reading Thy revelation, 
That we are instruments, so blessed -
A ceramic in a hollowed mold.

I remember asking my mom,
Telling her what sense is there-
Driving in a winding road,
With predestined traffic lights.
I was naive but i heard a hum -
Of untamed curiosity and fear,
So the book i kept unfold....
As years drive this nuisance wight. 

Years went on, and ashes passed before me,
And each time death knocks like a scream -
I kneel in surrender, with a selfish plea,
"God, I'm not done, please keep it green!"

Until now I cry, 
No longer young, but humbled to be wise... 
How beautiful the surface with grotesque depth.
How life is a tragedy behind the masquerade.
But still I try,
To unlock answers behind the patterned lies...
To search for truth as desiring music to the deaf,
Not in fallacy of what was passed and made.

I am no saint. I'm definitely a sinner -
Just like everyone else.
But the conquest of being a dreamer -
Makes anyone, something else.