Congrats Heman Penning As Pope Benedict

Commotion in and out of seasons Opening of ancient doors, both with Nuances and ignorance that birthed Guilt and sorrow, both in latter and former days Reverence to self-adjustments in doing what is within reach, Ambient in thumbing up and drumming Terrestrial support, self-budding to nail adequate audience So promising, yet disappointing outcome from presumptive Hue of energy embolden, desperately reaching for Ethereal space only habitable by the gods who Menacingly stare at me, abutting my way to perfection, Advocating against my weak defenseless case against Naked and plain uninformed jury Pope up questions and cross-examinations, Efflux of what just isn’t justice ringing in my ear to have Never tasted luck, created luck, nor served luckily Naivety chewing me into tiny bites, laying bare Information I could die for, mounting Gravid last testament to my repute protect Acrimoniously sewing lie for lie, a truth here and there So that the parchment birthed trust in my credit Perennial loser I vowed never to be Opting in and out of knee to neck trouble Paying homage to known destinations of losers Excellently niffed and their pathetic sojourn cut short Been a journey, the famous thousand miles and counting, Excruciating, sometimes darting in shadows, gasping for breathe Never saw victory coming, even for a short while Endangered and engulfed with predators of hope Desperately dodging their arrows and darts from their Inbuilt quiver of burning anguish and sadist vile Congruent to the prey’s plan of aversion, if only Time could fly and carry me to my destination of rest