History all askew
story cut down the middle
journey down to your refuse
don't ty to understand
that which is made new
but is in fact older in
spirit and mind then...
i cant image you
to care for myself
As He was told to
kill his only son
the sadness portrayed
in his shaking hand
unflinching faith
regressing sadness
"No, Stop you idealist mortal! Let your son live on
my accord. Not die pitiful and discord
My overbearing sense
of rationale."
As he wept and prayed
and i read and felt dismayed
i forgot my place and
fell through space
i wonder why he questions us
blank bare hearts full of spidery webs.