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Thank the lord for Maya Angelou When the world went fast, she took things slow Her hopes held high when her head hung low She spoke her truth so we all could know The good lord gave us Maya Angelou
On The Pulse of the Morning
drink deep; breathe peace, hidden, in chaos. bliss, in terror there is no limitation, anywhere, that is not self imposed
A free me breathes in the air As I spread my wings As I sing and as I scream For joy No less I put my wings To the test And fly. And soar. And go through The open door
O that I, a wise, wise man, Could provide great Abraxas with gnosis, To acheive his plan,
I'm no Maya Angelou, Mark Twain, or Emerson. I don't yet know my dearest complaints, intents, or direction. I've never been hurt so bad that I've been deeply pained, I have, however, seen enough to know that we need change.