Forgive us Lord, this transgression
We of little imagination
Lost in the night of pace
Alone in the market place
Permit us to see the fire
In the desert a pillar
To free our creativity
From industrial captivity
The first born were not enough
Confused, their very lives are snuffed
Standing on the other side
Watching our captors, swallowed alive
O glorious day
We do celebrate
But how soon we forget the task at hand
Is a journey to the Promised Land
Categories: Creativity, Poetry
Shane is enjoying his daily work in 2010.
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