I have more positions to take on,
From decisions on safe sex to missions to wastelands,
Regardless, the visions are solid truth.
The art is nonsense all removed,
As Plato said once, Socrates too,
Aristotle and all the men,
Who sought the truth with reason.
Here a pureness to the soul,
Strong as mine and pure as gold,
A bride so young, a name so pretty,
Beauty, pity, a city cold.
That girl to me is dead,
That’s all there is to say,
of love and all its woes.
my heart thumped, I felt weak,
and fell to my knees, awe struck,
that I could preach autonomy,
how fragile I am, without God.
I fear to speak, to say my feelings,
for what they’ll do to spite me,
I cannot help what I am, a frail man,
seeking refuge, in my Lord.
on days like this, I understand,
what brings us men, nearer to Him,
that love between a boy and his mother,
that compassion towards another.
what is that barrier, keeping men,
from returning to their lawful creator,
but a case of anger, a cold arrogance,
a sickness without medicine.