Y2: Day 55 (Titles And Headlines) The Clock Don’t Stop Here

The clock don’t stop here. It is an everlasting finesse which brings about changes in the worlds continuum.  I thirst for the knowledge I embark upon when the light draws me near to your platitude, my Lord.  However, the everlasting light is liquid gold residing within the inner realms of my soul.

I’m configured by the entrapment my heart sometimes falls into.  For this is the ignition for fallacy only if I let it.  Is there no stronger hold upon the break lines which are presumed to keep me grounded?  How can the measure by which I’m supposed to live up to be correlated when all in the mind is illusory?  I can only hope to drink up the waters you provide which burn from the salt in your tears.

For he is a mask of uncertainty when I walk quaking graveyards at night attached to the boulders rolling on top of my corpse.  Chains tighten around my wrists as I take in the moonlight; yet, there is no further step to this dance.  Is there a musicality in his unbending ways, my Lord?  Where is the song which is supposed to lead me to the Holy Grail?  With every movement I take I fall further and further into depletion.  Every level I drop, there is only layer upon layer of dirt upon my coffin.  However, my spirit sinks deeper than six feet.  I’m resting seventeen thousand layers below the vessel which contains my body.  For my spiritual body continues to wander in the darkest depths of Hades where there is no return from hence I came.

If I could hold onto the younger self, I’d only have the face of alteration to live up to in your sacred grounds.  Is there no more plight I could take to rise above the atrocities which hold me prisoner.  Will the mind continue to falter in this grave I walk?  You must hear my cries from the realms of darkness, my Lord.

How can I continue on with all depletion eating away at my core.  For I have been led down into to fallacies burning in my fathers heart.  If only the rain could cut through the thickness of the quick.  I march down into the sea to revise my plight.  I wish to ask for allowances which have kept me away from you for so long, my Lord.

How can these captivating lights in the sky continue to burn throughout the galaxy when I’m turning to cinder with ever layer the fires burn off me.  I take hold of my last breath, forbidding it to escape into the escapades of the devil’s tongue.  For I am the one who shall fight my way through these repetitious worlds I’ve been driven into by madness.

I hunger for the ease coming from you soulful words which shall fill my heart with gladness.  However, I’m decomposed by the lanterns holding onto the fires which turn my heart to cinder.

The ignition which holds me together is slipping away from your fingers.  For only you can make the pieces mold back into place with the touch of your loving hands.  Can you take the wheel, my Lord, for at least one last time before they pour dirt onto my grave?

I’m only asking for the whip mark the lashings upon broken flesh to be removed from the estate I dwell.

Take my hand and guide me out.  Lead me through the path back to the holy light, and I will continue to rise above all atrocities which have marked me for death.  Take away the hands which strike me down and break up my bones.  For I don’t wish to have them fed to the wolves.  Mark my spirit for your heart to continue to burn inside me, and I’ll wash away the soot from your feet with my tears.

Give me liberty in place of death, and the candle in the wind shall continue to burn for only you, my Lord.  For if ever there were a purpose for me to hold it is to be the reminder for the will to never commence.  I can’t stop the music blasting inside my mind, but I can hold onto the forces of nature which rectify the grail I seek.

Don’t send me back to the oblivion.  I’ve learned my lessons well in the ink well.  For I have written your words with my own blood so as to be sure all your statutes shall be upheld by all who lay eyes upon them.

Is there no better way for me to show you I realize the error of my father’s ways and want to repay you my Lord for the leisure you’ve given me to think about the truth your mouth speaks.  For every word said speaks to my heart, soul and spirit, in addition to filling my mind with wisdom.  I shall continue to drink the waters from your sacred mountain, if only you’ll let me.  However, man alone cannot wash away tears of scorn which have held him prisoner since the beginning of time.  It is up to you, my Lord, to give him the measure to see when he opens his eyes for the first time.

You must impend his velvet words with your truths if there is to be a miracle in throughout my land.  How else can he see what is before him if he has no eyes to see from in the first place.  Only you can give him eyes to see with, my Lord, if not through the tongues of those who know you best.  For it will take more than words to changed a cindered heart.  His transformation must start from there if life is to be rekindled.

For I shall not be able to continue to drink from the tears following my heart around.  Seek not and all shall remain as it were, but I wish to seek you in the highest glory there is.  I can become inside every vessel holding me together, but I must have your hand to hold onto, my Lord.  For it’s all any man can do is the hours of his end.

© Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2016


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