The individual speaks to the Lord and confides to him about the vile ways of the world and mankind.
It’s a long look for sunlight
Transforming into gold.
Angels with their wings of translucent pink
Dance inside your troubled waters to bring
About serenity within your burning heart.
There is the song of the wind
That breathes life into creation;
Yet, the kiss of wicked drones is lifted
Out of the dark funnel
And cleansed with sacred scrolls.
I shall devour fiber pages belonging to the creed,
And humble myself before the Lord
With the passing hour.
Hold me up high so I can hollow out this tree trunk,
And make room for your glorified gifts of sanctity tonight.
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