Thy will be done father. I seal my lips with thine name. The deliverance of your flesh was for transmutation alone. Bear me what you will, throw an obstacle on top I sit unmoving..
I dwell above you, within you, beside you I sit.
A stance and posture of seriousness. What pagan can deny your lips contour? The weight of my woes are pennies in the pouches of well fed men. It seems as though you are here to fool me but how can I question when a glance towards thine throne, like the sun blinds my eyes. A word cast towards you collapses like a young bird attempting flight. A moment with you wipes clean my slate. Of knowledge, insight, deep wisdom of Sanskrit & my own lives spectrum.
I travel lightly so that I may catch the tail end of your brilliance. I hasten my pace to spot your old footsteps, before.. before they are covered by my own woes.
Oh I am nothing but a fool, cruel and cold of heart without you.
So a beggar will beg, an assassin will kill, and an owl swoon at the sight of the moon. A traveler will arrive and have his song sung but! What is it to Me??!?
My sovereign father, most intimate of all life, you come to their door and they wipe their feet upon you my father. . .
seems to be lacking something.. have to fill in the intervals
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