i bear the cross of faith
tied down to the angels of
Heaven.
He listens to my praises
like the whisper of windchimes.
a tickling of silver tongues.

in the trying times
He burns in my head
a fireball of glory
a lavish thought in my brain.
He instills fear
He instills pride.

we read the words from His Grace
memorising the holy scripture
pretending like we understand Him
pretending like He
understands us.
the loss of faith is lost upon all.

and so as i sing these monotonous
phrases of glory
inside the church of alabaster
i ask of Him a delirious question
and he would answer deliriously.
a consciousness of oneself.

and as i feel my feet on the floor
the gold tiles freezing my soles
i bring into His Grace
a sinner
i ask myself
i reside in a golden cathedral.

i bear the cross of faith