Who is the man that I’m sitting here writing about late at night with poetic lyrics, the man who is standing all by himself and the man with the quiet spirit? The man that I see who is passing by me leaves a question mark on my face, because he really does have me curious, but keeping the thoughts in a secret place. He will never know that I am watching, and he will never know what I can see, he will never know what I am hoping, because it just may not ever be. Though my mind may be constantly roaming, like the waves that are in the sea, he might not be the man that’s for me, but a withered and a fruitless tree. I may never know what will happen, and I may never know what I will face, but all I really want to do right now is keep my feelings in a secret place.
If only you had spoken in your final hour before your vision had begin to grow dim, and if you only could’ve told me what the feeling was like when you transitioned in the spiritual realm. Where are you dwelling, are you feeling alone, or are you bowing at the Master’s feet, are you singing with the angels with a harp in your hand or are you resting in eternal peace? Show me where you are and just lead the way to where your body has been properly laid, because I want to know if everything is well with you or are you begging to come out of your grave? If only you could seek me or just give me a glimpse because your soul is very hard to reach, and because you’re not with us in the physical realm I just wish that the dead could speak.