one hand proffered another swung
waiting for the fall of that minute next and
then after next, another
seconds, crumbs falling like rain.
Who would know the ten eternities
preceding the grave?
the birth of a soul
convicted before even one breath,
sins never imagined.
Hanged like a thief no mother would claim
we waited for another day, next,
certain one would come, followed by
another from faith without basis.
And without reason, without cause
it was sanctuary we betrayed, not ready to be sold,
ingratitude was a word learned well then, well earned even
Ah, but that was before we knew there were none
others to take us in
as though it matttered - we knew not of other
but still childish things and fairy tales we wanted
Oh we tried, really we did, for a time.
Bless me father, for I have sinned the words
recited with evil tongue unknown to me,
not knowing what even yet a sinner we could be.
They say, those men, that god made me in his image
so why not in his thoughts as well?
What's just one bad day.
June second is inevitable, it has to be.
I pray but for silence to hear but one
voice, to know only what I was meant for
and I pray for you, I think,
but is it really, whats prayer?
Then without doubt we were but just a girl
to whom hope came easily, faith not
or perhaps was the other way round
not belonging in
this mans world
but for to discharge a debt
I fail to understand.
And so fall the hands, the minutes, the crumbs of the day
passing one at a time, single file, heads bowed,
passing through the palace of god.
Would not the lord deliver some soul
before the cold stops my blood?
Not here, not this vessel, yet I wait
I wait, I wait til the waiting is done,
while blood runs cold,
living in compulsion of fear.
Hymn of tempering
11 hours ago