She was scattered, shattered, a soul in disarray Every heartbreak chipped a piece of her away She became hollow, an empty shell A shadow of the body she used to dwell
He strolled into her life with his kind and gentle touch Pieced her back together, made her feel a rush Showed her she is worthy of love and affection Helped her rebuild with care and perfection
Now she is under construction, but it is different this time She's not fixing what was broken, instead building a new paradigm A relationship built on trust, mutual respect, and devotion Love that strengthens and grows with each passing emotion
and there she is, known as cruel wicked for speaking.
her hair was tied, her neck was strangled, her eyes were poked, her lips were stapled, her arms were rotated, her feet were collected, and she were dressed into something new.
but she did not like it all, and broke the strings above her. they called her a demon, setted her into fire, darted her heart with spears, dragger her into venous snakes, tangled her with ruling hurricane, just to let her meet their god, lucifer.
yet she is still there standing, hoping until her last breath— after all, she is the woman of god who died from people she devoted for.
"war may be over— but inhumanity remains" ; @wordsbyhami
Sufferings will come my dear, Don’t worry I’m right here. Do not flee, do not fear, Keep your heart clean & pure. Utter my name and remember, Your difficulties I shall shear.
Finally from the land distant or near, A conch you shall hear. Cranreuch on heart will clear, Gifting you the divine mirror. Mirror unveiling your shadow was me You plus me what a beautiful affair !
You know it ! Not something new, All know it, Yet experienced only by a few. Once the betel leaf of devotion if you chew, Shall you drown in the juice of intoxicating brew. Remember! Once I enter, don’t you try to shoo, For thy devotion, in thy heart forever I stay glued.
Here I come fulfilling my promise, I’m forever yours, a mere servant at your service!
Speaking in tongues in accordance of The audience, prior the winds of your voice To be spoken in my ear of that accordion Accordingly so of the bellows—the chorus of Love in that mellow tone of a Holy orchestra A symphony of the Bible; all revealing many mysteries As I constantly read more of you
All the text setting a picture of your context my joy is content: not like a performance Of this world's contest
Psalms 121:1-2 NIV I lift up my eyes to the mountains— where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.
So as the top would say; I'd lift my eyes higher than the mountains To you Lord— Of where my help comes from everyday
So I pray: to be humbled by your grace— non dependent on man to guarantee the will Of your way In Jesus name I pray, Amen.