Poetry: Disciples!


The one that follows will learn to walk.
The one who listens will learn to talk.

And some are unfit to unlace their shoes,
Others have names and titles they choose.

Someday this school will learn to unteach,
And we will pitch our tent each

something like the sun and night as its food.

Some tear off their pages so bad,
we complained about the hearts they had.

Then comes up the full type of ugly
who into my path their foot comes as snugly.

In His image we watched our growth
Selflessly chasing; bounded by oath.

On this table we’ll dine
Breaking bread, sipping wine.

In His truth we got lost
Until again we witness Pentecost.

I am a cinnamon,
take me in and be solomon,

Wear my footprints,
You’ll be flavored with mints,

Let the tidings twirl,
And many would become like a pearl.

It indeed shatters;
The ignorance of all things that matters

There is no way faster,
in the quest to becoming a master

learn, unlearn and relearn again-
Such and much must a disciple adopt, to truly gain.

Chosen amongst a few,
to be the light after the morning dew.

Flesh and blood;mere mortal,
Representing the master in total.

For it is the call of a disciple;
to be a shining example.


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