Eventually
November 6, 2010
My soul cries for what will be,
But isn't yet.
It longs for what it can't see,
But can on the inner self be felt.
It dreams of the next day,
And despises the last,
It wants what it cannot say,
And holds on to its dreams fast.
My soul strong and weak,
In faith and patience respectively,
It can only seek,
What it knows will be...eventually.
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