No divinity in static things
That take up space.
There is no glory in just “being there”.
It just sucks my lungs dry
The only running is in one place.
No divinity in trying
To fit in to something that’s not.
There is no glory in conforming
To normal’s way of thought.
What sense? My essence will then be shot.
I’ve lost my sense of Home
like the honey bee.
No divinity in doing
The mundane just because.
There is no glory in those ones, the bottom feeders,
Don’t like what’s being served then out the kitchen!
Not going back to the way it was.
From the bottom to the top
‘Til you can’t get enough
Said the ocean to the drop.
Be giving to the living
It’s not the same as being alive
One life’s pace can be quickened
Wishing upon a little star
Wondering in spite hearing
Wasn’t a verse but after awhile
Adopted it and became your style
Your style, O where is it
O where is it?
Has it been jacked?
Did Jack take it? Then take it right back!
No divinity in giving up
There is no glory in “I’m sorry not today”.
No lowered-eyes find
Jewels, only worn feet
Good-bye defeat, the pearlescent crown’s displayed.