I'll speak this tomorrow, yet you heard that today,
Which absolutely don't mean you can't believe what I say,
This just means that concerning my youth,
progressively maturity outweighs.
I spend so many hours and so many days,
Refining my life for future out-pays,
Not material or worldly or fruitless displays,
The type where love and karma and beauty do play.
Yes, I see a little bit of the truth each day,
I'll speak this tomorrow, yet you heard that today
Which often, unfortunately my heart's core enclaves
For enlightenment prerequisites that I speculate
How do I adapt, do I acclimate?
Where do I seek the peace, or find what equates?
In me, in you, in love's arms we lay
Then the layers, the layers of heart's scars away.
