Anguish of Grace

I am the broken one,
The shattered one,
The villain,
The bastard.

I am the guilty one,
The weak one,
The small one,
The failure.

I am in pieces
I am in pain
Confusion is my morning
Despair is my night.

It makes sense to call you Lord
My fractured and poisoned view of reality
Does not struggle with this,
But to call you father…

“…lest anyone should boast.”

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Don’t Let The Grace Be Gone

Don’t let the grace be gone
Or I won’t find a home
Don’t let the grace be gone
Cause I can’t stand to roam.

Don’t let the grace be gone
When every door is closed
Don’t let the grace be gone
Please tell me there’s a home.

Life is full of enemies
That hunt you down like dogs
And hurl their spears like catapults
And chase you till the dawn

The running and the hiding make
Your weary soul despair
The sounds of your pursuers boots
Smashing through the air.

Don’t let the grace be gone
Or I won’t find a home
Don’t let the grace be gone
Cause I can’t stand to roam.

Don’t let the grace be gone
When every door is closed
Don’t let the grace be gone
Please tell me there’s a home.

When I was a little child
And life took all my youth
I looked for death in every hole
Searching for the truth.

I spent my days ‘twixt laden shelves
Reading every page
And talked to big ones more than not
To listen for a sage.

Don’t let the grace be gone
Or I won’t find a home
Don’t let the grace be gone
Cause I can’t stand to roam.

Don’t let the grace be gone
When every door is closed
Don’t let the grace be gone
Please tell me there’s a home.

All the pathways that I took
Led me all around
Didn’t find my death or truth
Just beaten to the ground.

But angels came with heavy wings
To make me turn around
Let me hear them beat the air
Their wings a holy sound.

Don’t let the grace be gone
Or I won’t find a home
Don’t let the grace be gone
Cause I can’t stand to roam.

Don’t let the grace be gone
When every door is closed
Don’t let the grace be gone
Please tell me there’s a home.

Grace

When it’s gone the world’s astray

When it’s here the monsters are kept at bay

The cold breath in the morning air

That rises from the, “that’s not fair!”

 

The hot tempered rising scream

That we surpress as we boil and teem

The icy stare we fire at will

That gives the crowd its frightened chill.

 

We think that we know so much

About our rights and wrongs

But often we are swept away

Out to sea by angry songs.

 

Will we ever see ourselves?

Will we ever see our friends?

Or will we fill in truths with lies?

To find our way around again.