Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Mountains

The sun burns golden
In stock-still trees
The mountains sit, silent,
Never to be moved
And never to be broken
The day closes
And cools under stars
Which burn, hot,
But too far away
To make a mark

Who am I
And what is my purpose?
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1 comment:

  1. Marissa :)February 12, 2013 at 4:40 PM

    Proverbs 16:9
    The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.

    ReplyDelete

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