one gets used to all these <br />these and that, matters of the heart and soul <br />veiled with secrecy, worshiped as a secrecy <br />a devastation of the mind <br />a burning of the soul but no matter what <br />we both are here <br />still strong and silent in pain <br />rejoicing that oh, <br />somehow God has a plan for each of us <br />dead or alive <br />a room is reserved, a blue sky, a full moon, <br />a shining morning sun <br />a white butterfly, a scar that heals <br />exciting walks of life, stair by stair we tread upon <br />milestones <br />we shake our hands <br />we are here, and move on to the next, where no one <br />no one <br />can say, that this is all we have, <br /> <br />look over there, <br />there is more to all these <br /> <br />go.<br /><br />RIC S. BASTASA<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/one-gets-used-to-all-these/
