The days go by, I do not know why, they were here just yesterday.
Perhaps I should die, give up and sigh, life's lessons are short lived anyway.
My computer is no tutor, 'tis more like a looter, for its appetite flies too quickly.
I want to cry, but dare not cry "bye," because my work provides me no victory.
Why can't I write, and put up a fight, for what my heart truly desires.
For then I am sure, that I grow and mature, in facing my passions and fires.
It's not just an art, it burns in my heart, the Spirit of life is within me.
It seeks to get out, to whisper to shout, to tell all that It's sweeter than honey.
I long to live, my life mission and give, and build upon solid ground.
So let me get lost, and not get tossed, in that by which I am found.
The days are too short, to sit idly in court, judging how time will be spent.
No writing I do, rather leave things to you, may I turn to Christ and repent.
Such was my life, this yearning and strife, to experience the worldly decoy.
Now I know Peace, that shall never cease, flowing in crisp rivers of joy.
More than a tool, writing's a jewel, and lifts my soul to the sky.
To Him be glory, as I write my story, for He is the reason why.