The Faux Pas Press #162
Travel on this Storm
By Chambo Fresh
I felt bronze chains shackle my legs to attitude and the tempest tearing me down. But the open fields, not abysmal fate, my feet upon this ground. I wander far on hills of fire and pray for Odin's might, and yield my will to one knows, no battles left to fight. Returning new to a future grand and wings upon my back, forsaken all the dreary rains forgotten times of lack. Apologized for the what I've been and tried to brave the norm, to play the part you've asked of me, been willing to conform. It seems this life is not for me but for everyone else instead, seems that others wished me theirs or else they've wished me dead.
I wander dark upon the storm, the only place I'm free, where savior, family, king, and throne won't come to ransom me. Am I afraid? Not a day goes by that I don't feel that burn, but a voice that still whispers right, I know I'll have my turn. Of all those voices chiming in and commenting on my choice, there is always he who is might to save, a calm and cheerful voice. I return from foreign lands anew, I've traveled on the storm. Okay to sing along with her, my spirit to transform. My will and his together now, the times that we will share, I'll teach the power of these words and hide from tempests' snare.
My time won't be like yesterday, I'm born again in rays. And walk to North Park's healing grounds, and mold the future's clay. I've loved you deeply, all of you. And shot blindly towards the dew, to prove herewith that dreams are real, all old things will turn new. And Monterey where I proved it once will be mine once again. I write the ledger on open fields, the future with this pen. Lift the weight of Atlas fame and break the silly norm, okay to sing along with her, okay to ride the storm.
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