Faith less
07.12.2020
When I was three
I had a reason to be
but didn’t need it.
When I was nine
I thought and whined
but found no meaning.
To each their shout,
locked out
to think and ponder.
I kicked about,
the anger drought
far off in the yonder.
I realized
that on the cold marble step
I should remain.
It was then, that the idea
in between the frozen tears came.
Not from heaven but straight to my brain,
from an older me with a different name.
“The light you see is not from thee, but from the ones who planted your tree”
It is them who gave you the chance to unwrap today,
which, although without a bow,
seemed good and mysterious and you didn’t have to pay.
Accepting, without defeat,
the new shapes, not shadows,
I was to meet
If the night light is not from thee,
could it be?
That the three that shine through out the day
are not an entity?
