It’s on the tip of my tongue I want you to taste it with your ears and your eyes
How your mind sinks the hesitation procrastination every painful iteration
Every scenario to me occurred
That it is the feeling not the word, that gets stirred
By more than physical touch, but mine you’ve penetrated
Through my rivers serrated, rushing waters.
A non-chaotic state of mind perfectly content,
Make me feel like a sweepstakes winner, I am plain hell bent
On reciprocating, becoming a slave to the hypnotist in me for you having been saved
For He did not to me even reveal how it would be graced upon me
Through a super human fate
Tamara Morton - - October 2011
