Confessional #10

Daisies and war,
Aminidab & cacophonic stretches burning out the light,
Drinks & candlelight masses;

A study filled to the
brim with every word
that proceeds out
of the mouth of God.

You are my echo,
and I, your plaything,
but we only last
as long as each
particle of faith
remains orbiting around
the sun of our experience.

And we will annihilate
this fleshy core of my
existence;

Echoes of the birth pang.

Dancing, winding, spinning sorcerer;
keeps mild transgressions at bay.
Dipping in the wax of a cumulative ghostly shell,
I crave to burn fiercely for a moment,
on this good earth; as a testament
of my devotion to Your prescribed commands.

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