My Lord (III)

Questioning God’s direction will never lead to a righteous message or blessing. Stressing a loss you took while missing the bigger lesson, why question? Marathon not a sprint, so quick to want the title without properly laying the tiles to success — such mess we create for our creator. Never equivalent or greater than Him. We remain less than but never less than the next man — my God rules the court that they try and court their judgment, It was never up for discussion.

Prejudice their movements. You’re strict on others but not yourself, worrying about them instead of your health, no drop in ego just lost in self. New seasons enter and ice will melt.

Never questioning God’s timing, but questions that rhetorically direct. One could never question my intellect or pose a threat when they lack a spiritual connect. Move without regret and we never fret about the happenings. Beauty behind the madness and we march to all our endings.

I breathe the same air that they care to deprive me of. With God as my judge, I breathe easy for the next second and worry about the next minute when it becomes the present ticking. Ticket to heaven with gates open and external forces close. For only my Lord knows the woes that my people and I have endured. We turn pain to passion and passion to rationalization for why we act as we do. This explanation only goes to Him and no other. No sister nor brother can utter the exact feeling you feel within, for even if they come close, the layer is still thins.

When my life closes out, I’ll still have my pen and the words I released to fill in the creases of dismay and drought. Things became different this May. Just a year ago I contemplated suicide in my ride, now my hands are tied with you and I. I can’t gentrify my thoughts inside. Bleeding internally and left to dry out externally. Release pain to no shame.

Heaven on earth from an accidental birth — now with purpose.

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