Purpose

I have a fear of my unseen boss whose whisper like a hiss
I hear whenever I pass the rivers edge.
Really I do not understand the dialect but I believe it's like my deceased loving mother's advice; 'Please take care of yourself my mischievous son and remember well there is a purpose on this paralytic journey.'
I response with a shivering to my faraway masterful creator;
'I am innocent like a litmus paper; turns red by acids and blue by alkalis.
Please let me scribble on this mystery Earth until they finish the reading.'

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!