Tuesday, April 10, 2012


If I could find it in my heart the sincerity
to strip myself and succumb entirely
to the poetry of Your mercy, and rid myself
of my vanity, my poverty, my hypocrisy
I shall be within reach of Happiness
in this illusory reality

This heart of mine is hollow
it seeks excuses to wallow
in empty existence, futile destinations
So I trace Light in the words sent from the Sky
hoping to see what the eyes cannot see
in this ever-darkening age

So that I could make You my Home
and stop missing my homeland
So that I could make You my Universe
and stop wasting my Love
So that I could make You my Life
and stop wasting my breath

I no longer wish to curse myself
and pledge my Muse to Roman candles
that do nothing but burn, burn, burn
Having exhausted myself, I am out of wick
The pool of liquid desire in the crucible
of my waxen chest had drunk itself dry

Surely, the Fear of regressing impales me
yet I am done decaying, bitterly unmoving
The skin of my mind is scarred
by the razors of slothfulness
I would rather throw the knives of my sins
into the air and let them stab me everywhere

Let me bleed every drop of ill-deed
and purge every lawless urge
This is the time for Justice
I will cower no more
For the One that feeds the birds
shall provide for me too

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