Eloho

They said he leads us beside still waters, Waters so calm that they resonate with the sweet breeze that sweeps through the hillside, They said it is here that he restores our soul, and I wonder if He will touch me that way today, My heart is an inferno of iniquity, A raging well of unwellness… My matchbox is empty. 20 match sticks struck and tossed into the fire My thoughts howl and bellow in rebellion I hear his voice faintly, softly but I am unsure Yes I need a touch from Him… Perhaps like Zacchaeus I will climb to the top of a tree And like a chanteuse with sincere poetry and a cracked voice-box                           Call his attention to me… But how can I? When like Lazarus I am stuck, Stricken in my prime with the grime and slime of death Trapped by the very bonds

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