Stress pulls me down,
and nerves wrot my core,
as I think about the future,
and all the open doors.
Wich one do I walk through,
Wich one do I shut,
I stand in the middle of choas,
in the middle of this rut.
I get this tugging fealing,
toward a certain choice.
But what if I make a mistake,
then what would be the point.
What if God doesn't want me,
to walk through this threshhold,
what do I do then,
when I cross it, what do I behold.
But what I don't seem to realize,
at this cetain point in time.
is that right after you cross through the door,
there is another on the oppisite side.
We will always be walking through doors,
and closing them all the same,
And as we walk down the road of God, you'll find
more doors will be closed to pain.
breathtaking, thank you so much, i truly loved it, thanks again, its wonderful
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
That's great, Kimber. Very true.