A seduction. An abduction.
A holy image, and a doubtful prayer.
Optimism until the end, pessimist starting the chain of tradition.
Name of The Father.
Head Held low, pain the shape shifter-
Which has rolled itself down my face.
A long forgotten moment of peace.
And a plea for forgiveness in sarcasm.
The Son.
Here is the end in which I began.
I was finished. It was ended. I'm done.
I've been to this familiar place before.
A place of solitary, and a man I've known for all my life-
A man I've never spoken to.
The Holy.
Interrogation is for the stupid, only when this man comes to caress my shoulder.
If we've all been divided. If we've all been under unity itself and separated.
I spoke to him.
But he had no tongue.
The Spirit.
I've owned a feeling of future knowledge.
Future Optimism.
A gift in which I've honed.
Or a divinity which has held my hand along the way.
A book of stories. A foolish population.
A dearth of understanding.
For our deity of no tongue.
Throughout the hardships and no abilities to believe in any other man.
I with hold the fate, the thought, and the smile-
A tear altered in happiness. Every moment becomes easier.
For a man with no tongue.
For a GOD with no perfection amoung human nouns.
For a Faith with no beginning.
For a divinity whom is with in me.
Amen.
 Pain-Killer 4 Dead Angels · Thu Jun 18, 2009 @ 06:09am · 0 Comments |
