I tried to use God as an excuse to run away from my fears, but He told me to face them or disgrace Him.

Perhaps this is what life is all about: vindication streams from the screams of agony on the cross.

Lord I give you my all because all to you I owe…

Wait. No! Not that vice!

Aren’t you supposed to be nice, sweet Jesus Christ?

Aren’t you supposed to be Emmanuel?

Why am I the woman at the well?

Has death lost its sting?

I can hear the death toll ring!

May I join the angels’ sing?

Irrationality seems rash until her implications aren’t pushed back.

Irrationality is thinking, “I’m OK; I’m not all that bad.”

“I know contentment”, as I browse and put a new item in my bag.

Irrationality is thinking that love is just a virtue. (As if it weren’t alive; and to dare that love might be limited!)

Impassioned rationale is my vice. There is no time to feel, for Your time is near!

So what if I want to relish in my fear?

Is it not for me to say?

I hear the war of angels and demons,

and I dream of yesteryear, when the skies were blue and clear.

Your promises were true and elementary,

After inviting supplementary vices,

It’s the consensus that they never bring true cheer.

Death has lost its sting!

I can hear the death toll ring.

Let me join the angels’ sing!

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