poem 87

"the past is nostalgic 

everything feels coincidental 

the way the stars aligned

nothing seems accidental 

the meaning of faith

took on a new meaning

the size of a mustard seed

and I was leaning

on this faith

to get me through

the worst moments

I ever knew

I gave myself up

my heart was renewed

the love inside me

it blew up and grew

into a Galaxy 

where perfection existed

where harmony lived

and love persisted

the story of life over death

in a place where love never ends 

faith never bends

and the good news never ends."