• God speaks
    ~ | ~
    listen to my tune
    sway to what you cannot see
    the music moves
    yet still you stand,
    you cannot hear
    what you disregard
    a grain of sand
    in the churning seas
    never ceases to lose its way
    upon waters not tame
    follow the tune
    the pattern of what is not seen
    the fabric we weave
    the cloth you bear
    bound to ragged bodies
    the music of the heart
    a soul lost at sea
    ever wondering where you are
    the music be a compass
    for your eyes be the gallows
    on which you are confined to hang
    watching sand pass through the glass
    i am forced to hold
    in my left hand
    I hold the scales
    and in my right the hourglass
    so delicate
    careful not to disrupt what i have lived to keep
    in check
    to disrupt the tune i have spent so long to weave
    the time i have wasted in pain
    to answer a calling i cannot see
    but alas you do not see
    that what you need.
    you cannot see the cloth that weaves us tight
    most do not believe we are the same string that weaves itself
    around each man
    you always wonder,
    but never know
    you always think,
    but never
    decision requires not your eyes
    for they are what you will hang upon
    use not your eyes
    but a light inside
    to find your way in the dark
    of the cave we carved
    with your flesh and blood.

    ~ || ~
    Man addresses God

    My hands are worn with age
    from the work i preform
    not in the field
    nor among other man
    but for a calling
    known by me
    bound by the cloth no more
    the apron strings have come undone
    so we fall into the chasm
    of the cloth
    we sit and weave for the unknown
    how can we work
    when we cannot are unaware of the payment to come
    if it will be none
    let me cease the work
    if it will be plenty
    let me work faster.
    Nay the work do on the cloth called fate
    is not bled upon by an open wound
    but it is wrapped around wounds already closed.
    I see what you shall do
    upon a throne of bone
    and gold.
    The honor is the poison in the glass of justice,
    the rich mans hide be worth more than mine
    yet mine is already tanned
    with the work for your offering
    the grain that feeds my body
    is taken by your priests
    as offering
    or is the offering a curse
    or a blessing for an unseen future.

    ~ ||| ~
    God speaks

    the words you speak defy the scales
    thus causes uncertainty
    to rise above the reason
    I speak no more
    defilers be damned
    to whom the scales keep
    blessing to your soul for there is not blessing among man.