Living where the dreams, they repeat themselves where living isn't living it's more like sleeping. There was an old man next door, his name was, Lonely. He cared for the gardens. He cared for the grounds. In his way, he cared for us. She came to me one bright morning. Spoke of her memories of this place. She went on and on, in proper detail. But ask her how she remembers; it becomes obvious, she's only sleeping. Once they've woken. Having heard the Word Spoken. their sleepy lives are broken. Breathing in the spirit, the wherever it will blow. Enlivening that spark of life within. In the Abundance of Life We sing, we dance, we love No more sleeping. ________________ copyright © 2022 SDKilmer, LLC HeardWords America All Rights Reserved www SDKilmer com ........
The Existential Writings of an Adoptee & Introvert