I have come into the breath of God I will write the poetry of Your divinitythrough words bled as beginnings and healed as endings I am Written Through church windows and mosaic floors where angels have warred over destinies paved on a holy path I am Written and this is my verse

It was like light was being pumped into my veins, searing arteries of gold My eyes opened and I saw atoms, possibility and eternity I could hear my own heartbeat My chest swelled and a holy voice uttered a single command: everything

I wanted to sit in my sin and breathe in the bad I wanted bask in the light of stained glass windows while church bells sang the wickedness from my bones And then I'd wake up and the stupor would've passed, leaving me with a rapidly beating heart and a distant memory of madness  

A maiden walks a forest path late to come across a fountain of honey Its price: golden coins of money to sate Carrying words of wishes dear Only to be swallowed up by the fishes clear Carried down to depths of knowing Later whispered on fair winds blowing...

What is a candle that it should burn so bright at night? Its flame neither big nor warm and yet it calls out its hope against the advancing darkness A battle cry of importance Tis when the Light called us

Tonight there be a sky of fire as the Angel played on his lyre A tale long foretold by the Prophets of old Of rubies, myrrh and pots of gold Looking on... The King marched to the funeral pyre of his dead Queen, branded a liar