The waning crescence of the moon
Like a sickle in the eastern grave
A promise of tomorrow in mother's arms
Drafting my future as her slave
My freewill gives me the strength
To resist the call of untimely death
A golden sand beckoning from beyond
Dawning on my soul as she bets for my breath
A breath that will answer only your call
Oh Jesus welcome me when I give up my soul...
by carmen herrera uy, august 3, 2013
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