A Plethora of Poems.

Questions.

When I was young

Even just after my toddler stage

I always questioned things in places

That I shouldn't have roamed.

I wasn't a real Christian yet

And everything was unexplored

And over lured

To my slim little eyes.

I'd sometimes think

"Why am I here?"

"Why am I in my body?"

"Instead of hers or his?"

"Why can I only see out of my eyes?"

"When I'm in my body?"

"Why can I only see my hands?"

"Why can I not see my face?"

Questions far beyond my little mind

That other children could maybe never

Ever think of in their lives

None but me.

Why did I change?

Why did my mind start to accept things?

And comprehend things?

Far beyond what I could already comprehend?

I met a man named God

In a church nobody noticed

Filled with love beyond others

Which welcomed all people.

What was this place?

I wondered in the face of new

In a bright lit room

Flurrying with loving disciples.

I never though church was a place

Of anything but boredom

And fictional phrases

That I did not understand.

Then I finally understood.