The Shine
Sometimes I think to much.
Often I forget how to touch.
This mentality I posses seems so far fetched.
This physical body I carry is an egg, unhatched.
Every moment, every hour, every day, every week
I somehow follow the proud, the knowing and even the sleek.
Even as I learn my own lessons to teach the young and old,
It happens time and time throughout that I only think I grow cold.
I only ripen to sweetness and the bitter truth of my soul.
How beautiful is it that I get to live life and be whole?
How blessed am I that I get to walk in other shoes than mine?
How terminal can this be that I must share the shine?
Often I forget how to touch.
This mentality I posses seems so far fetched.
This physical body I carry is an egg, unhatched.
Every moment, every hour, every day, every week
I somehow follow the proud, the knowing and even the sleek.
Even as I learn my own lessons to teach the young and old,
It happens time and time throughout that I only think I grow cold.
I only ripen to sweetness and the bitter truth of my soul.
How beautiful is it that I get to live life and be whole?
How blessed am I that I get to walk in other shoes than mine?
How terminal can this be that I must share the shine?
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