Essence of Self

Sometimes i feel my faith is a chest of lost treasure without a map I know that I'm destined to be loyal servant known to man In spite of the thornbushs cover my path I'm never a pure breed but yet only worthy to those who speak of the most high As i harvest the most divine fruit on this fertile soil promised to be drenched by the flawless fain drops rejuvenating all it's dead roots A treasure of the gates eases my heaviest burden nevertheless conquering my vows and wages of supremecacy is a portrait of marbleitself My golden armor shied's me from the patrons of man