Each day, I walk over frozen shadows upon the faces of rocks and the memories of young ineluctable hearts falling in love for the last time. Blood thats been spilt and conscience severed. Their past haunts me. It is written beneath the stone tablets in my chest. I am cold and desolate.
I hear the screaming of nefarious voices all night long. Like a high pitch they shader my hearing. I stretch out my hand and grasp the chill of the air, gifting me hope for one more second. Pain is constant and as stiff as the knife in my back. Betrayed me, a friend, the one I loved. What is Love? I fear I do not know Him.
Deception confines me, my heart curses me and harm besieges everyone I know. Love is ever present like a mother to her babe, Love looks after me. What is this Love? Where did it come from?
I have never known anything like Him. Love holds me flightless and wounded. Love picks me up and gives me a drink. Love feeds the appetite, cherishes His beloved with eyes that level mountains.
Is this Love truly spun for the sick? A disease belittles my corps. I am the unfaithful whore in the night. A new face, an old addiction, I flee from the grips of Love. Who is this Love that whispers in my ear?
My heart is heavy and my spirit brittle, but this Love vigorously pursues me. Why, I do not know. Though disgusting and vile and unclean, Love looked on me and said, “You are forgiven. Go and sin no more.”
