A story of Kindred spirits. 

I am a soon to be father and just had many thoughts going through my head on the day that I wrote this. I found it so easy to be wrapped up in thought about how am I going to make a impact on my child's life and how she could learn from her mother and I.

Just a little insight of what I am talking about. Also if anyone has any other theories of how this could relate to them in anyway I would absolutely love to hear about them so please feel free to comment.

Kindred spirits that walk among the plains, 

Hands made of sand trying to hold on to its own essence 

Questions unanswered filled with regret and pain 

Liberate me for I am but a pawn 

Shackled to ideas that cannot be skewed 

Escaping to that plain and walking though the threshold 

Unsure of what will come.   

Will I be taken? 

Or is that just wishful thinking 

That I am worth the thought, 

Can I truly be what I am needed to be? 

For I know on what ground I stand 

And will continue to fight No matter my command. 

Giving up is no option 

Only my mind can make a crucial decision 

I am here, I am breathing, and I will not be forgotten.   

It is the mold of me, 

The essence of me, 

True meaning of what I will be, 

Will this be enough to stimulate the thought of liberation 

Or simply make me redefine what it means to be liberated. 

Redefine… what a divine thought. 

Could it be that redefinition is the answer? 

Anything that is, was, or going to be important, 

Not anymore?   

Don’t be mistaken by what I am saying to be confusion… 

Because when you are crossing this plain, 

Crossing that threshold, 

Make no mistake that this just could be your moment 

Of pure enlightenment to your true meaning, 

Your world and what wraps you in security 

But releases you into horrific terror.   

So tell me, 

Can you truly wrap your hand around anything,

When it is made of sand. 

Everything seems to slip through the cracks,

Until you shape your mind 

Form your idea and stick to this idea 

For there is no structure stronger than faith.   

When all is lost 

Faith is the sand, the mold, and the redefinition of life itself. 

So do you have the strength to redefine your shape, 

Or will you just become part of the manufactured mold, 

That is and always will be considered unoriginal.