you see,
the world is in a monologue,
talking only to itself,
seeking creation,
probing nature,
Rattling the elements,
hoarding Yahweh’s blessings.
on that proverbial table,
we fatten the diet of our senses.
we, genius skeletons,
preaching God’s irrelevance
with boastful tongues,
the world is not looking for Him,
A new year only resuscitates the
the body’s dying vigour,
I wish us, profound awareness of
coffins, tears & final extinction?
…we’re celestial orphans in a lonely galaxy.
There exists a divide
broken only by that Nazarene,
To not pursue him,
is to immerse the soul in sleep,
a cosmic neglect of a beautiful God
to blissfully die into the irreversible…
and in death,
to forever reside there in that terrible unknown,
alienated from a loving God.
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