A Global Divergent Literary Collective

Far from my mind is the thought

of what I may possess

or what others have not

A place between understanding,

perhaps

education is not the measure

of a man’s knowledge

and experience is only one of many

I cannot find the sound of reverence

echoing down hallowed halls;

as though none had been before

today sounded the first call

Close to my hands

I keep a record of my worth,

in the breadth of time

only a penny,

or a half

For my version of verse

or lines of ordered rhyme

my price to pay is most dear;

what value placed by history

is never mine to proclaim

nor fear

In certainty I match sounds

with color, emotion and sight

a garden grown from flesh and bone

through darkness, death and plight

misery and ecstasy

joined in militant march;

to fight a battle not my own
and take a…

View original post 213 more words