Thinking of a time so fretting, never thought I'd be thinking that now.
Here and now with that feeling, of debt, appreciation, and gratefulness that grow and endow;
...
She is dead.
That radiating light of my soul i so adore,
A pair of divine angel wings, that veils me and shed;
From the stagnant dark forces of life, no more.
...
A Floor Of Materials
Thinking of a time so fretting, never thought I'd be thinking that now.
Here and now with that feeling, of debt, appreciation, and gratefulness that grow and endow;
Along with the moving weeks and days, gazing into our minds we see, a Grecian dome built, brick
by brick efficient but slow.
Like A floor of materials, a deep ocean to sink in and flow;
Like primitive natives on a desolated island, the sublime vastness so hesitant to go through;
But with guidance and inspiration, we set sail into that ocean filled with knowledge's dew.
Clinging on the ship of patience, stormy autumn and winter, a ride unpleasant and rough;
Not all of us had clung so well, the tribe is split in sorrow, and the rest shaped like dough.
A floor of material, the deeper you sink in is never enough, to grasp it is to explore the skies;
Like A culture shock, from its horrors, Equiano would cry!
And fanatic Puritans would never dare to dip a toe and try!
Crossing it made us know, the benefits of landing, like Columbus proud and tough, we go;
On such a wise and infatuating land, of Faulkner and Edgar Allan Poe.
So thank you Dr. Alyaa, for the helpful initiation and sparking in us hope;
For we're the puritans and you're our Winthrop!