Brushstrokes of Becoming

 

Each moment is a brushstroke, 

For bringing attractive fruit to vine. 

I believe into the present nine months time, 

To be the best of its kind. 

I willing grow in stature, for being the child,

Whose blessing Gods hand, 

When I came unto land, for obeyance of thee. 

Foreseeing and impressing onto imaginations womb, 

To bloom her ideal sea worldly for me. 

Each moment a brushstroke,

Attracting Bringing producing fruit to vine,

Believing fully present,

Nine months perfectly mine.

Growing in my stature,

As the blessed child thinking,

Gifting by grace,

To my Father’s guiding lifting hand.

Foreseeing and impressing,

Imaginations of in thy imaginary womb,

Nurturing, blossoming, watering,

Her worldly seeds sea in bloom.

Obeyance unto thee,

My becoming moment role rolling rolls strokeful brush,

Fruitful, pure, craftly fine.

Creating artfully in lovingly being.

The son who listens for your reed words.