I scarcely know
what to believe
either way offers
me no relief.

God,
Please hear this prayer
Watch over the little ones
And hold our families near
Let me forgive
And move forward from
Past situations not meant to be
God,
Please let someone find a cure
(One with your blessing, not the mark of the evil)
Watch over the weak, the poor, the sick, the sad, and the lonely
& those that have lost it all and more
You are capable of miracles (Are we that far gone?)
I trust in you
Have always seen it
Felt it
You’ve never led me astray when I’ve followed your ways
A personal journey
You’ve led
I've followed
All I have to do is look up
To your creations
And trust that everything will be okay
Something better awaits (In unworldly paradise)

By A good guy on Hp, a super amazing writer and the best friend you could have<3333 THANK U!
---------------
Far in the farthest land
Where grass handshakes the sea
A sea turtle, in an Odyssey
Searching for The Golden Sand

Diving in the crystal blue
To the darkest blue, in the depth
Swimming back up, and she wept
Pearly bubbles and greyish hue

A bubble burst brought the savant
Kaleidoscopic unicorn, from beyond the clouds
Neighing speak was his words
"Neighhhhhhhhh sea-turtle infant?"

The turtle understood he meant what's the matter
Explained her need for The Golden Sand
In there, her broken soul will be mend
The Unicorn tapped on the water

The sea Turtle watched and wondered
Are his hooves magical
Will he start neighing philosophical
Nothing happened she muttered

I can't swim you fool
But in The Golden sand or blue sea
I am here with You, and You are here with me
******, this is not a pool

The sea turtle skipped a beat in her shell
Because no matter how small you did
You made someone's day gilded
Tap the water, promise me you will.

Vague,
the expression of response
in a relentless jade,
conjuring up primevals
risen from her house arrest.
She lives through the days of tension
by her own fortitude,
clutching to her privacy
as if a means of escape
to which she can be locked within.
Mendacious moments,
walking towards a primrose path,
allude her to try and smile.
But she knows she need not pretend,
for just as her hair falls casually
over her face,
she winces her pain
into a controlled tremble.
Proposed to glide under
freshly minted skies,
in words filled with undertone
and in serenades
softly played by calendar
chimes.

It’s only thing that brings me back to my truest self,
the self that only the wild air , trees and inhabitants know
Its spirit meshes with mine and I am whole.