She woke again, reminding me,
“I’m not hard hearted.”
I see the face of those in need,
And long that they be comforted.
I long, not only that others
Will come, but churn with desire
To come myself to my brothers,
To deny my own hearts sire.
But the twist in a deep found root,
Twists deeper in guilt as I stay
And taunts recent purchase of boots,
When one starves now, how dare you play?
The nauseating rise of twist
Inside consumes for a moment,
Breath clenched in cruel conscience’s fist,
Haunts rise from the deepest hell sent.
And in the chant of demon night
I see the flames flash and consume,
And the evil of the dance in sight,
I recall the work i should resume.
And in perserverance He comes
Again to ignite the mystery,
That if one does what one true loves,
Each needs place will be found in Me.
For the one of all time, knows all
That needs and gives each one a call.