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A perfect poem, flawless arrangement

A prideful man, my own thoughts on my future plans

Sometimes I rewrite the chapters into dismay

Currently my life feels like an enormous span of writer’s block

My life as a volume is not yet seen

Future events encapsulated beyond layers of time and mystery

I can barely utter, nor my pen create the words to describe where this is found

This mind finds it difficult to filter this real life story

A script to live by, but as an actor I throw them aside

I can’t interpret the language of this unknown plot

I don’t understand the infinite when I’m stuck in this moment

But I still seek to lift the fog from reality’s destiny

To the lightest clear air of my future hope

There are many who conform to one world

But it is what is outside of the this world that I try to conform too

I’m created to be different by a different kind of God, one that is real, alive and creative

Without this God I am no one.