Painting with Questions

When is love gentle, and when does it rage?
When is it honest, and when does it save?
What can I trust, when can I speak?
Where does the truth and my feelings meet?
Can I trust myself, catch a glimpse of liberty high on the shelf.
To what does my soul bring, to what does it sing.
What do I wait for, what do I mean?

How long, how far, how come, why?
Who knows, wind blows, snow’s cold.
How soon, how near, how goes the storm?
Need to stay safe, need to stay warm.

All I have, and can give, these liquid prayers.
And thanks for goodness I know that is not yet here.

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