Hope springs on molybendium steel, eternal. While prostrate and naked lays my soul. On a thousand firebrands of nameless fear the truth begins to appear. On a vacuum fringed hole in space I lay my weary body in that place Praying that God won't excommunicate This gentle gesture of communication. In retrospect, I feel the wounds slowly heal. And the newly freed prisoner has his first meal. A breathless taste of physical grace. If looking in weren't a sin, I'd bring windex to kiss the glass.
it might be becuase im listenign to al greene, but this pome is existential and really fucking spiritual...hello soul friend!!
