At My Table of Thought

 


Come have a seat at my table, 

Yet be mindful of what you sit upon.

To stand is knowing who breathes you back,

Forward is one thought being positive electric.

To the builder preparing these words, you say.

Grow me to the sky through the heavens lead the way. 

Foretelling be told one picture be moving,

Mining, minting, molding forming sculpting scripting,

Smile.

Enjoy your seat at my table,

Yet be mindful of who you sit upon.

For to rest is to know the ground,

And to stand is knowing who breathes you back.

Forward a single moving thought, electrical spark,

A pulse being promise, pure.

To the builder crafting in heaving this breath I say,

Grow me skyward Heaven up ascend lead thy way.

Foretelling be told, one picture is living,

A moving lightning light from above.

Mining truth, minting gold,

Molding form where dreams imagine.

Sculpting sound, scripting flame,

See, You smile, speaking James.

Come, have a seat at my table yet be mindful of where you sit.

To being aware is to know the ground,
Yet to stand?
To stand is knowing who breathes your lungs.

Forward a single thought, alive, electric,

A builder’s spark preparing words to rise.

To the sky, I say,

Grow me upward, lead me through heavens gates.

Foretelling be told one picture begins moving,

A light, sculpting truth from imagination.

Mining gold, minting soul,

Molding form where dreams become whole.

Scripting purpose into flame, carving legacy in name.

And when you see it,
You smile.
You speak.
You know: At My Table of Thought

Art Baby Blue is here.






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