God.., no one is afraid of your law,
With the avenging finger,
That pionts to the mind with treats,
And mocking angels,
Shuffle what seems to be unusable guidelines,
Thus the obsession,
For a sinful life.
I'm sick of doubt,
and losing obedience to a vegetable law.
I'm in a zone of muteness,
Listening to fistfuls of silence,
Like a beast in a cage,
with strangeness awkward to the mind.
I'm perched head long,
On the edge of destruction.
Give me the sounds I need,
To believe in your creed.
Give me trust and things of kindness.
You must confront me, It's inevitable.
I'm sneaking up on you.
God.., have I touched your toes
Looking for something I already have?
This is the sea of doubt
Of a sidewalk servant.
Allow me time
With that gradual feeling
Of learning and remembering
So I can adjust
To your light.