The Awakening of the Spiritual Renaissance
Every time I look in the mirror I see the face of god.
What a vicarious view of vanity. My eyes sin and
Reflect past. My envious tongue licks the gluttonous,
glory of gratuitous teeth for the over consumption of snakes.
Their scales as smooth as one thousand
Fingernails attached to greedy hands scraping my
Spine in a form of lust so violent even the wrath in my
Heart can feel the aching from the foreplay, from the night before.
Slothfully smoke fills my crying lungs. I breathe, in this
Air soaked in darkness and everything I aspire
To be but won't. My feet are anvils.
My back is the ocean always moving to the shore.
My hands are hammers and my dreams...
My Dreams are like Marshmallows plucked
From that squishy spot in side my skull; maintaining form but no substance.
This face of god looks back at me and sings.
"You see, you see what can't be seen. You repair the damage
done to me." With a smack of fate and a wrist watch
on my side damage dealt and a battle won. My eyes forgive
their sins. And I scream for forgiveness... forgiveness, without
anger. Forgiveness without regret, forgiveness, without time and
time my friend is just a clock Ticking, ticking, ticking.
So if this face of god is really the man upstairs his either
a freaking moron or has a really good sense of humor.
Because as of right now I feel as though I
should dive in this ocean with the weight of my feet
dragging me to the bottom to see how long it takes to
feel alive. I've come to realize in my dreams I really do
survive and every breath I take carries me closer
to the day that I arrive in a world that's ready for me
a world that I'm not ready to see.
I still long for a mind of a baby so I can maybe
have a conversation with myself and say "self...
you're going to be ok." Because right now
I'm so confused by the time and space
and everything in between.
My dreams explode like they
where put in a microwave on high.
The anvils shatter and hammers splinter
and I am the center of everything
by everything I mean everything
and I can make my world that
much better.
It's my choice.
It's my clock.
It's everything that I've become
and everything that I am.
I have room to change
but it's only some.
I have it all or
I have none.
I may not be this
divine presences of purpose
starring back at me.
Though, I have repaired
this damage done to me.
Copyright © Matt Dee | Year Posted 2010
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