My pen fell with the weight of my heart. It sounded like rolling thunder.
Is God Mad at me?,
Challenging Her back,
and I said,
You never Loved me,
Hiding in my soul
are darker things,
that you forgot to heal and take from me.
Shouting back,
"You abandoned me,
left me to die slowly".
I curse the things you bless, and bless the things you curse.
Hatred on my lips, like that of serpent,
Telling pretty lies to buy time,
For my own 4 seasons of discontent
Twisted you left my perception,
Like a motherless child.
My Love is well in meaning
yet hidden mystically.
Not quite reaching the ideals by an incomplete philosopher.
How heavy a burden, for the pen to be unable to synchronise
Heart and Mind prose or poetry?
Life and limb are in the power of words,
Yet Faith and Love remain separated
in a war fueled by confusion.
Is God Mad at Us, Or Are we like me
Mad at She,
Refusing to see the virus of hatred
spreading?
Now even pens yield war torn storms,
Eliminating all that Humanely binds
You to me, We to Ether, and All to her
Mother Universe.
© 2015 Kevin Guru 407 Quats Love.
