Europa's Space Of Poetry

just add water, and wham! dust to a mud, simple Sam! not to go all cat in the hat, though, he held a lot value, moral, even facts; I find inspiration to come from a place of serendipity, it gives the appraising moment feelings of sensitivity.

I coming from a place of experience, where I was coherent of the trenches I’ve found myself in, to crawling at a running stage toward a dead-end. my bequest will be of new starts, of rough beginnings; understanding that a hand-out get’s popped, and hands-on gets props. I’m founding the best of to leave behind; there’s only a few souls who will comprehend what I’ve designed.

I am uplifting a movement that will spell my name; not for worldly possessions but for my successors to understand it’s spiritual fame; I am a Shunamite, laying linens for the futures slumber, for when it comes, rest will follow with the security of peace of mind, and not of plunder.

dirt can sound more trifle to any other element; but because it is priceless, people look over a blessing that is unlimited; why would I want you there when the journey is complete; when their was hard work that came with the easy tell of story, that might not be concrete. telling you my journey is one thing, but when it was hard and there was someone walking with you through it, that’s a moment you can’t pay to see.

spin you circle, see if it those in it can keep weightless as it is revolving; because when it’s begins to become heavy and stride begins to move slowly, you’ll see who was truly for you in the dirt and who has fallen.