First-world poor-man’s Chernobyl. (Taken with instagram)
Not worlds on worlds, in phalanx deep, need we to prove God is here; the daisy fresh from nature’s sleep, tells of His hand clear. (Taken with instagram)
What will these fingers touch, I wonder about it so much. Will they draw a face or fly into space? Maybe catch a fish or cook your favorite dish. What will these fingers do, these fingers we’ve given to you. Will they fix a car or shape clay into a jar? (Taken with instagram)









