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A journey of uncertainly,
To-and-fro through star-crossed events,
She grasps onto her faith,
In this world of hurt,
To make her feel safe and heard,
She prays to the man in the sky,
Who disguises himself as the shining stars,
He is full of light and beacons of hope,
Beaming and shining throughout the night,

Ceaseless prays whispering through the air,
Drifting under the gleaming moon,
A glory rain begins to pour,
She feels his words start to fall,

She held in respect,
The words that he said,
Wrapped in the warmth,
A glisten of promise,

He made her realize she can’t have it all,
But she can be brave and faithful,
For the people she adores,
To provide a helping hand,
For the friends and family,
Who need the love and care the most
Jayce 9h
he pushes me onto my knees
                       our father who art in heaven
i open my mouth for him
                      lord, i want to recommit my life, my heart to you
he holds my head in his hands and i take in all of him
                     you alone are worthy of all honor and praise
his eyes close and his head tilts back
                    he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you
                        by his love

i can feel tears running down my cheeks and i look up and capture his eyes
                   i saw the lord...lofty and exalted
his mouth tilted into a grin
                  make your face shine on your servant; save me in your
                         steadfast love

he pushes my head back and i come away with drool and tears dripping to the floor
                 now the works of the flesh are evident
i smile at him and my gaze demands his admiration
                for this is the love of god

~
Should I believe in a higher power
That I can not touch, see, or feel?
That lets innocent people be broken
Then worship him to heal

Should I trust that he is the reason
That I live every day
If I need a miracle
Drop down on my knees and pray

I don’t know how I feel
Or what I should believe
My god had forsaken me
Left me feeling naive

I want to trust
That he has purpose for me
From this indecision
I long to be free

Is blind faith a sign
Of strength or weakness
I do not want to live a life
So completely meaningless
Saints and sinners step up to me. Saint or dinner which one you'll be. Make your plea to get through the gates if you're a sinner your ride comes at 8.

You probably already know my name so I'll it short. To be honest father I feel I'm hell bound, I haven't went to church since a week after buying a suit for it. My bible is a virgin because I never opened it like it's a limited edition print. But I do know three verses. One to keep away the people ringing my doorbell at 10 am in the morning while I'm snoring. One to keep away my family when they start coming at my neck like mosquitoes when trying to talk about the blood shed on the cross. The last is for my sanity to clarify to my body that I'm not the black devil you see. I'm not the black devil society says I am. I'm not a devil or a demon. I'm lost. Father I died a lost boy. I found myself between in the crossroads of good and evil but chose option c. Father this isn't a excuse for failing the conquest of salvation but just a background on my starting point. Father what is the key to heaven. Is through the message or the messenger. Father did I fail you, father is this my first save point. Father will take me as I am. Will you reset me. Or will you erase me.
Like a hammer that’s too short.
Like a wall that feels lacking.
Like a land of giants, vanished.
Like a god among gods who aren’t your own.
Perfect in an imperfect world or

imperfect in a perfect world;
your imperfection shown.

Yggdrasil overgrown and all the options leave you empty.
At first nine worlds seem plenty
but soon you hope for twenty,
finding no treasures tempting.
Your desires in the waters 

of three holy wells reflecting
a thing that seems calm and collected:
an ending to the ending;
soft but not,

like a pillow made of rock,
you rest your head upon
the thought of Ragnarök.
every molecule of your being
each cell
down to it's nucleus
is one that has existed for millennia
yet is entirely unique.

all that we are is matter,
recomposed in a way to create
to  establish
something
                                         new,
something
                                     unique.

it is not within ourselves
that we find purpose
but in the artist that used chaos
as a canvas;
in the sculptor that made monuments
out of mere molecules.

do not fear the "you" you are is of bad quality;
for it was molded
and perfected
by the perfect
mold.
to pluck each petal
off of a rose
             leaves
                  only
                        the
                            thorns.

i refuse
to w
        i
          t
            h
              e
                r
                                                    
                                                   away.

no matter the
                              drought-
no matter the
                              little light i receive-
no matter how
                              strong the wind that
                                                          blows.

i will
   fix
my roots in Your soil.

i will
   quench
my thirst in Your grace.

i will
   become
a garden
   in
        the
              desert.

no matter the
                                circumstances
i am bound
to   b l o o m
with You
as
the gardener.
Prithvi 2d
Who Am I ?

Defined by Occupation,
Or branded by Designation,
Is my identity beyond my Workstation ?

Relationships Galore,
Friend, son, lover, even a Mentor,
Transiting perceptions, is there More ?

Worshiping a higher Power,
A Temple, a Mosque or a Church Tower,
Labeled for my faith of the Hour ?

A mirror unraveling my Quest,
Permeating through the mind Possessed,
Finding my true self Unsuppressed.

Who Am I ?
A Flowing Potential
I grew up between bookends
with the holy word held between
one fell off the shelf with no amends
now the shelf is filled with words unseen

So I read of other options
now I question the thread
of these fairy tale adoptions
which have been so deeply embedded

Christian school, weekly church, prayers before bed
my childhood filled with these epic tales
of a guy who died and then rose from the dead
and if you don't believe, well, see you in hell

They are good stories, some even great
but that's all they really are
to live by them is to live a life castrate
burning bush and a man inside a whale, a little bizarre

I am not mad I grew up this way,
but now I live a life of questioning
of what's beyond the pearly gates
without all of the one sided lecturing
shiv 3d
And you say god lives in a church
but i've felt her in the moments
before our skin touches.

I've seen her when i bawl my eyes out
to a moon who does nothing
but ignore me.

I'm not religious but 
 if faith brings me something other
than the lonley feeling in my gut,
then i dont know why
I haven't converted yet.
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