in my old age,
i will make sure my children pray;
i will keep them all safe,
from this uncertainty that our maker made
for those that kept their faith,
they are sure that they are to find
the way our maker made
i do not remember well,
as a child, my own self.
my memory won't tell -
try and understand
do not lose your temper;
moments come and go,
it is wretched, yes i know,
just keep it simple
i tried to forget my own face
and take these paths of change,
but not that much time has gone...
in my younger days
i knew too much of our differences
and such was my amaze
i thought i had seen right through
what some call the truth,
their exposed and shollow roots
a blanket in our old age
in my selfish mind
all of my loved ones are skeletons,
their bones set out to dry;
their ghosts haunt more than my bed-
remind me constantly their visits hold the consistency
of something i once read