These lids are stretched wide open
with holes in my bed meant for sleeping,
but i keep riddles instead, inside this pocket of a heart
that hopes to belong to love.
At this hour my mind likes to scream “I’M INDECENT !”
with tremors that plague my body like there is no tomorrow,
I let out a mere gasp , Holy God won’t you listen?
That my soul would be spared from torment,
that you would be real , that all I ever needed was you,
Because all people know to do is betray hearts.
May His truth be known among you!
Let me be something else, LORD!
Like the waters that cling to your feet as you walked,
or the donkey you trusted to carry you.
This is nothing to anyone at all , not in this night .
Embarrassed to call it a prose, more like a desperate and feble
attempt of writing sentimentalities that pertain to unequalled realities.
But all these words fall terribly short and I am a man in a den,
With few words left on my lips and even fewer friends.
O but i do love you, Lord.