First Fruits - Poem by Bill Cantrell
A poem in the raw?
Will you stay true to form?
Do not be embellished to the desire to outshine
In your naked state of emotion
You need nothing more
A poem in the rough?
Stretch your wings outward to heavens gates
Disguard the body to enrich the giving soil
Let yourself pass on to something more
A poem in the heart?
What mother could ever abandon her child?
Forever a daughter,
Forever a son
A poem in the heart is the chosen one
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