I find myself in the days which have thus evanesced,
How oft, well beneath the flux of the fiery beating orb,
With childlike leaps sprung by scurrying feet, I soar
To a paradoxical paradise long since to dust coalesced.
                                          
           ­                                YET

The serpent that burdens with sleight ~ of  ~ hand trickery,
Banished from Eden, tho barred not from creation, as Sin
Forged a home by me, but not within, naught within!
He  slithers amongst thee, may God shield & deliver me!


.                                           HE,

My God, is to whom I turn to in dreadful moments
Like these: times that seem lost in the miasma of Hell;
And Life has dealt another wild card to me, I fell
For the bluff and chose poorly before my atonements.



                                          WALKS


Seem to help, when I feel quite down in the mouth,
For I have fallen from Grace-or so I have felt- at
Times when Sin in me seemed to rule my past,
And prayers seemed naught to help in my bouts.


                                        WITH


Me, I once carried my burdens more than my bible
Because my faith faltered from time to time, living
For the moment seemed more convenient, giving
Naught a thought but in hindsight to soul survival.


                                         ME,


I make mistakes which does not make me fake,
Perfection is not what He expects in this, The
Grand Test, which does not make me bad or godly
But rather on a quest to beat this mess I did make.