As the ink...

As the ink bleeds through the paper I'm currently writing on I think of all the things I could have done differently, all the missed chances, big and small. Collosal, monumental moments, with he tiny, but beautiful simple ones mixed through out, memories that seemed so small at the time, but resonate now like Heavenly drums crashing against my soul. I've let my selfishness rip the sweet, precious things in life right out from underneath me. The time we have here is a brief one, and the world including myself moves at a speed to fast to cherish the blessings laid upon us. Birds fly and the creatures of the deep blue move with such an elegance, with a rhythmic flow that screams they are free. We could learn an abundance about how to flow with God's will, instead of fighting against it, just by watching nature take place around us. I've seen people, loved ones, my entire life attempt to forcefully dig a tunnel, or construct a bridge just to steer themselves away from the path that God had set them on. We are all guilty, we've all deliberately diverted useful energy and allowed our sinful nature to drain us of our fruitful insight, we've chosen to cover ourselves from God with a veil of shame and disappointment. I've realized we can't turn the hands of time backwards, and any attempt to do so by clinging to missed opportunities, lost friends or what seems to be unforgivable acts towards another, will only render us useless to the ones who needs us.

This poem is about: 
My family
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: 


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