Drop the Anchor
I shall lay this burden down.
I give it tour our Father time.
Beyond all reason, it bends the mind.
We shall call on Father,
In seasons diverse, his manner
Flows to many seas,
Too heavy too great
For us to perceive.
Then vanity pour sine squeal
Like lusted weavings
Round your neck a death march.
It is dry portion sus offering sin.
Cast down ashes they be,
Of death, burnt shadow of spirit
Do rise like moths to flame.
Heaven's testimony ,
Is a net of pain.
Their insence weave a bitter
Web of stencheful shame.
Father forgive them their
Almond obeisance
Weapons to
Destruct the mass,
CIRUS garden,
It does burn,
Its mustard grows painful gases,
But worse the purple powder,
Rend the heavens
Stretch them out
Send my spirit burning through
Toxic snare, so
Chemical veil impart us your Sun
So we may see truth Father of all and one.
Copyright © Misti Himes | Year Posted 2016
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