Jesus saw upon the dust and he spoketh what the f*ck?
How have my crops so withered that sowing produces
a feign tapestry of life that does little to put to rest
the wolves that howl and banter at the doorsteps of my mind?
I subscribe to his religion and yet
am not saved.
Hast Jesus betrayed me?!
My bow quivers.
My arrows quiver.
I look upon the dust and I repeat His words.
I, a servant of Jesus, Lao and Jahweh-dude
beseech the mute sky for answers and walk away with none.
Clearly it’s time to water my crops and pray for a greener harvest.