If he is not here – fast:
Weep, mourn, tear your clothes, shout and gnash and burn
Be shrouded in sackcloth and anointed with ash. Oh, see you’re loved and turn.
Till then, flood your eyes till they are empty sore,
Abandon hope of rest, of peace of anything anymore.
Go on and silence you voice through desperation screams of, “I”
Let distortion rage and rule and reign and crush you as you cry.
The lack of him so great. But he is here – see:
Throw yourself in sweet humi
What even do you want?
What do you really want?
Is all you desire all you can see?
Is now all you want all you trust there to be?
Because if it is, then take all you can, trample, tear, cling, destroy.
Overwhelm, abuse, store it all up in your debt laden fortress.
Don’t relent, don’t forgive,
Don’t ask permission and don’t hold back.
Fill your eyes with the night of your own-made glory. But when morning comes.
When morning comes! #christianp