SHEEN


“So I said I am fallen, sweetly into this dark stormed sea, from those others, false accusations, those beliefs that terrify me”. Those words came from something beyond me, baritone, maybe, sexually sweetly, “do you not see, that fallen taste, I would love infallibly, that beautiful form I would, make sheen, strip away all the pain that surrounds belief. Breathe, sweet surrender to me”.

Oh who is it now that would judge over me, just G_D in all raiment, my name is indeed, for all sweet surrender in sheen and in storm come join me remember, one judge is its form, for you do not need a religion or peace, you do not need those men who breath death in their grief, for sweet, sweet surrender is all when you breath, it’s all when you breath.

Every, oh everyone says to me, your life should be this or it should not be. Why you should not have her or you should do this, it seems oh Daniel your life’s not of bliss, and if you would be poor, for poor you should be, and you should want something, but something you need. And voices they come, from those who speak while dead, there spirits with Jesus, that place of guilt dread. Oh I say of what there is respect of me, that part in endeavor that part you don’t see. But still they spell on with their Munchausen eyes, there daggers of pity, those Christian dead eyes, and bellows and billows of false sense of ease, I see it when they come to characterize me, for it is a time of dead dawn that is past, that person that holds there sense unwilling dread. For what is the truth of what you don’t see, the G-D you deny, that watches on me. Have you thought your soul so secure in its rest, while marching ore others those who know your best. What oh adventure when you come to die, to know you were wrong to know you lived less.

And now like the watchman that watches ore me, the daemon of purpose that changes with ease, would you know that now I surrender my rest, I give unto others the thing I know best. It is with a still grace and change upon dawn, a sweet near surrender to fly in a storm, a recognition of who holds all keys, a spirit indigenous, to damn theocracy, a billowing storm of all matter and rain. A gift of the purpose, creator all things, a light that moves, and catheterizes me. Reaches for you and ask you to see. A sweet, sweet surrender not Biblical form, a treasured of timber, ghost spirit no forms, and the one that drops down when you’re on your knees, I see that in you and I know it’s in me.

Oh who is it now that would judge over me, just G_D in all raiment, my name is indeed, for all sweet surrender in sheen and in storm come join me remember, one judge is its form, for you do not need a religion or peace, you do not need those men who breath death in their grief, for sweet, sweet surrender is all when you breath, it’s all when you breath.

For those of the select that are fallen, you are so beautifully made in G_D’s eyes, and I might add mine. – 10.11.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל

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