Apriori and Self Evident, A Gift
Upon which Reason is founded, A Sword
     Separating Truth from Lies,
     Discerning Reason in the Unreasonable,
     Seeing the Unseen, and
     Affirming Belief in the Unbelievable.

Once you've sat at Wisdom's feet
and heard her teach the Truth
Light's unbearable and dark
and Teachers most grievously painful

For there is no error in the plumb line
Any tilt and crookedness is exposed
Every hearts' wickedness and deceitfulness
cries out and stinks as dead men's sores

Prayer is like a lottery ticket, but better;
For it's free, but for a mere price of promises:
for eternal gratitude and such — albeit you lie —
you asked freely for prizes: of millions, love, or power

To whom it may concern: the wind, the devil,
the great unknown, whomever, it matters not.
For you have heard and believed it happened;
And only fools will not cry out for more, freely given.

And anyone and everyone can pray, for you —
Each by his own formulation and his own magic.
Chances far improved by numbers and better art.
For the price of asking, artless you too have hope.

But true prayer is not asking, for you have without asking,
And only to be amazed at the depth and wisdom of Love.

No flimsy mask but witnessing faith
Not mere belief but transcendental knowledge
Strong and unwavering not double minded
Bright light shining not cowering in fear
And the dead and dying revealed as weak

But as the wise knows he's a fool
You are strong for you're weak
Truth's a double-edged sword
Separating the living from the dead
And loud boastful liars from those chosen

I dread the scorching sun
     and clouds came and it rained
I despair evil's pervasive presence
     and the virus came and destroyed
I detest the liar speaking truth
     and I wait the day the liar silenced
I dream the love foregone for love
     and I'm assured that it'll be and forever

A little thing matters
not in the thing itself
but if it matters to one
who cares for the little

Lust's outcome, unwanted, abandoned at birth.
Mothered by strangers, some naturally motherly,
some perversely wicked; fathers, a terrifying notion.
Fearing constantly: of the next face, the next stranger,
the next meal, the next bath, of dark and dawn.
Thrown about, moved around, from hand to hand;
Recovering from bruises to bruises, from slaps to whips.

But for being chosen from before the beginning,
and a name etched permanently in the Book of Life,
was found, saved, raised and guarded by Love.
The trauma of becoming left no resentful damage
but nurtured an instinctive sensitive soul, most acutely aware
of the deceitfulness, perversity and utter wickedness of man
and a constant wonderment of the miracle of Love.