I am done chasing feelings
So I returned to the potter's house
being the clay

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Never far from nowhere
Anything missing can be found
Even oneself

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Never far from nowhere
Faith under fire
Anything missing can be found
Even oneself

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Guilty as charged
for the murder
of sadness.

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Heart wreaks
Help at midnight
Sunrise

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Priest at Court

What ails you Priest?
Why do you droop in dejection?
Is it your parishioners?
Or is it the liquor?
Or the unholy pills you pop once in a while?
Or has life beaten you?
What ails you so?

I have been summoned by the powers that be.
The accuser claims I committed a sacrilege.
I have my conscience as my lawyer to plead my case
My spirit and soul witnesses on the stand –
a lost trial from the onset.

It is a common notion that I won't last a minute until the judge gavels guilty.
The jury gloats at me, I am surely damned
If ever I am pardoned, it is only for heaven's sake.

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Feelings silenced by doubts within

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To keep sanity
today, all things beyond me
I beacon sovereignty.

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The wars that be
One on the field One on the mind knows no bounds.
Inseparable they are, as it is separating one soul from his being

At each crack of dawn, the wars that be of the mind begin the wars of the fields and a victor must arise.

What then is said to a man who fought the chaos that be of the mind and won but lost to the chaos that be of the ground?

What then is said to a man who lost his mind yet won the wars of the battlefield?

Aah! Yes, we are more than conquerors through Him who loves us.

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Paths forlorn blooms uncertainty

Now comes all the shock wave of reality
They came late but early
Well I have never walked this waters dripping
Red waves yellow waves Violet waves white waves blue waves – don't forget black waves too
These shocks are in Rainbow bunch
Dragging me to Golgotha.

Yesterday I was significantly promised a footing–
Today another stands on my landing
The uncertainty of moro tugs my marrow
I might as well get heaven to notice–
If there is any injustice done, I did accommodate it

Rip it open
All wounds of lost compassion
Indict self, guilty as charged
Pity this ripped veins – they bleed so
from friendly betrayals
What is man that he finds redemption?

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