I made my way above the clouds
To see the Face of God
I ride a spinning missile
Made of water, air and sod
This little time we tarry here
Our vision to the sky
And rocket miles uncounted
A time to breath and die
Like flowers in the Garden
Our petals fall away
So we will kiss that Face of God
And live another day
The poetry of Beto Ochoa, Prose from a spiritual warrior
Aware
The Poetry Of Beto Ochoa~ Prose from a spiritual warrior
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
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