And your essence left my minde...

Coming to the end of my spring
And feeling you in my presence,
Wanting my presence-which I do not wish
Curious that we as soon discard
That which is offered freely, as showers.
My self is there and still-that's all,
Craving that which is naught of mine.

Please, oh the ghosts, make them go-
Came to speak once again
After I bade them leave.
Floating in my room, in my head.
Screeching and taunting in my dreams,
And you, you're still here...

Gone on my holiday
Wanting not to return,
But he chose another route for me,
Someone else as my true Jesus now.
While they float above, below, and beyond
Times ago, but they last
So, I throw out the flour once again.

Once my Jesus but could you truly be?
Martyre in your own right, perhaps
But not immortal or perfect, as He.

could he tell me what I want?
Could he save me like your Jesus?
No, just etches in my mind
Wavering and still
Like the rain playing in my head,
In my head.

The numbness and mind parallels-
Black shock, space shock, time warp
Fast and slow, slow and fast,
But it's all the same in reality.
Dredges in my field and plain-
Black and white and in-between...


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