Insecticide #36

You speak in forms I cannot comprehend,
yet it is written in the works of both our hands,

The play of energies.

I do not feel,
connected. Broken,
torn apart; I have thrown my life away.

And yet you’re here,
and yet God is still calling out to me,
and my son,
craves for my love.

My love,
it has been such a desolate world,
my love.

Barren, scorched desert .
Soaking up others’ rivers;
and depleting them just the same.

My heart has been a vacant lot,
only self-reflecting,
and once in a while,
charged with lustful glee,
it would turn to thee.

To channel a strong desire into a virtuous act,
and stop floundering about;
this will be my life-long contemplation,

And as I draw nearer to God,
Let my heart be sculpted
in a manner which pleases you.

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