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FRIGID LINES
Loneliness is like a winter coat woven of ice threads worn in the middle of the north-pole. It can’t comfort you it just affirms the hold of the cold isolation. It is a gridlock of desolation, defined by silence, emptiness and the void of warm arms reaching, embracing. The far away sound of the preacher preaching . . . echoing from the Sunday service past. You smiled a warm beam. They didn’t know your heart was bleeding from a too long family and relationship fast.
Comfort is calling
Your submission is stalling
Tears are falling
The lone shadow casts its long grey streak cry across still white snow. Single footprints writing secret tales that only the lonely heart know; leading to a home less than abode. . . tis abroad, a broad gulf of separation. Dwelling in the land of a strange nation. A language you know not. History only fades because you forgot.
Comfort is calling
Your submission is stalling
Fearfulness is dawning
As the day draws to a close. Night draws close,
where the pain of aloneness echoes loud
Shaking the seat of the mighty, the arrogant and the proud
Deep wells of tears can no longer be shroud, for the silence is too loud.
Hearts pain. Composures try to regain their cool.
To resist God is to sit in the seat of a fool.
A broken and contrite heart he will not despise
Open your heart close your eyes
Faith is not about what you see
Its about what you believe
Its about the truth you receive
Its about the actions to achieve
Open your heart and close your eyes.
