Sunday's Child
Sunday's child is always praying
for the right thing to come
what she can't see, is the truth
inside of her
not something else
Sunday's child is always praying
for someone else to come
what she can't see, is the source
inside of her
not somebody else
How do you contemplate outside yourself
when you are infinite?
Can't you see, come full circle child,
you are it!
Two hands clapping make one sound
where does that come from?
There's no one around
except, Sunday's child
Amen.
Copyright ©2004
poem by Adryan Rotica
Added by Poetry Lover
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