Home
Orientation
PENthouse
Poetry
Music Reviews
Prose
Awaiting
Lift me higher my Father because it feels like hell in here. I hold you dear to my heart, yet my soul burns like a million years of old deaths, trials, tribulations and devastations. Before my eyes I watch each brick in my path drop from the sky leading to what I figure to be my destiny. Is it there where the evils will no longer search and seek to launder my purity with the filth I could only consider through hindsight and the guilt. It�ll smither� the house I�ve built.
My faith fortunately will never leave, which is why I don�t have to reach everyday with my hand, to touch Yours �
I believe You�ve saved me, already, but, I�m lonely �
I yearn for you to physically hold me. So imperfect I am at times, so ones who I figure you send like angels are disguised, and they scold me.
Oh, whoa it�s me!
I only seek more of the strength I need. I figure it�s fair to search inside a soul and see You there. The most difficult feat today is waiting for You to save me from the heat. Then there will be no care. There will be no care in the world.
Copyright � 2002