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| My soul is an open book, whose pages only God or His Glory can read. Each test my spirit faces whether passed or failed are inscribed in ink taken from my life’s vein. Every poem or piece of prose written upon my spirit’s pages waits for publication when my soul and my body part company. Sometimes, when day becomes night, a poem begun is never finished. To you my life soul is an open book No one else has the right to look Within the its pages or to edit it The page of my spirit turns leaving the verse hanging, waiting for completion. The page of a new day spreads before the pen of my life. The pen writes a new entry, but never returns to the unfinished ode. The pen of my life writes page after page in the open book of my soul. When the pen makes the final and Azreal places the book before the throne of God, what will it reveal about me? |
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