Just pieces of Them
We all are
Sun, moon, even the stars.
All pieces and reflections of Them,
Now this is the poem
The poem that’s gonna win.
We all like to think
We are from some one/thing
Greater than ourselves
Now here’s your chances
To be Santa’s little elves
Now grab all your tools,
All the tools in your drawer
If you do this
Good things in store.
Oh I don’t speak
Of my own accord
This thing I wouldn’t do.
The Spirit me is coming through.
Ask most believing poets you meet.
Oh it’s the Word preached on theirs streets.
Wasn’t me mister…
I just kisser Her.
And the rest kinda flowed naturally.
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I doubt I really understand this, but something about it gives me a spoonful of bliss