Confessional #2

Gravitas;
my plural exhibitionisms,
planned persecutions.

Ego’s concentric rings;
and species’ flare.

Harbinger of confinement.

Your flags set sail,
and wishing upon me
no other form of punishment.

I cry to you:
Please await the diligence of heart,
the changing scepter,
passing from one hand
into another’s.

That my motives made manifest
could congeal and percolate
for Your blessed word.

Manifestation
of the sword
of truth,

Truth and Power and Glory.

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