|
Written By
Wm. West
11/84
Seed of my loins reflection of me
A mystery waits of the gender to be
I feel not your movements, as you swim about
For you are within and I am without
But
I can envision, as I have to wait
For creation's nine months
to finally abate
Two names have been chosen, one fashion for you
When the production is finished and brought into view
Grow on sweet offspring, tiny hands and feet
Until the matrix is open and we meet
I feel not your movements as you swim about
For you are within and I am without
 John
10:9 I am the door: by me if any man enter in, he shall be saved, and shall
go in and out, and find pasture.
|
