PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Let me appraise you with the story of my life,
With words like morning drops of rain,
Dancing upon my tongue,
To rehearse a melody that will be spoken in silence,
A calm rain shatters the exterior shell,
Of my hiding place,
And the call of God in Heaven hath forsaken me,
For they claim me a savior, when I am sin,
And they praise me for deliverance I never received,
And they bow before me and offer me repent,
Though I am the one who never forgives,
The one who never forgets.

And who am I to say that I do not pray?
With closed palms raised between re dead eyes,
Over again experiencing the pain of yesteryear,
Revisiting tombs of my own death,
What countenance be within me?
Who cannot betray me?
Who cannot hate me?
When I, who served as their keeper, have kept my hands in my pockets,
And my eyes locked on to their souls,
Because in their eyes I am God,
And they are my people.

Let free the chains, the chains of hope,
For kings cannot be damaged,
Tether me where I have tortured the innocent,
Chain me to those cold, stone walls,
Dig deep into my body,
Lay me down to decay,
Among the hopeless and the strong willed,
I will remain.

Their master.
Their disaster.
Their keeper.
Their reaper.
Their God.
Their fraud.

And in their eyes I am the Awakener,
Accustomed to the Damned - the maker,
And in their eyes I am the all knowing,
The divine people all spoke to me,
And tell me,
"You are the alpha and the omega,
And I shall serve you eternally more."

"To me you are my keeper,
This ethereal compound,
Mixed within my heart - with pain,
And sorrow, but still I weep,
My tears will fall on your lap,
And you will awaken me, and I,
As a soldier of God,
Will forever be yours."

Because in their eyes I am God
And they are my people.

The divine people.