Well Done, My Son
A wild dreamer. He was alone in the thoughts he built for his life.
A change maker. Not enough time to create the meaning to die.
On the gravel road, the dust on trees leaves remnants of his mind,
While the twists and turns break the speed of which he ran.
Though the frost kills dreams of yesterday again,
On the hill the sun rises to reveal his design.
Well done, My son.
He woke him. Now his thoughts spin wild for things of this life.
They took him. He doubts His ways to strengthen him to fight.
On the gravel road, the dust on trees leaves remnants of his mind,
While the twists and turns break the speed of which he ran.
Though the frost kills dreams of yesterday again,
On the hill the sun rises to reveal his design.
Well done, My son.
He woke him. Now his soul rests to exist in spirit of design.
He took him. He changed his world to dream wilder for all time.
Well done, My son.
