A poem by Nigel David Richey, Contributor, Culture of Awareness
Like crashing waves, manifesting sailors graves, I feel the end of my mistakes, demonstrating no need for hate, the life; my mind, the story it creates, finally ready to participate, not as a singular function that misbehaves, but part of something greater, a cosmic wave, a owner of non yet not a slave, I pray that if I ever stray, and lose my sight along the way, you don’t lose hope in what it is I say.
Trying to remain an honest man, is hard when the devil’s dealing you hands, but the tolls been paid upon this land, the new age is here and fast at hand, it was said if you best the magician you can, lead yourself home, back to Pied Pipers land. The sacred space of Angels, where it all began, let your mind soar free and love take your hand ~
