The further I walked away from the body of Christ.
It became harder to walk upright.
Gravity gets intensified and my pulse dips below zero.
Crows circle over my head like a false halo.
So I pray as I walk faithlessly to receive a sign for saving.
Eternity in hell on my headstone is the path I`m paving.
My spirit cries out but my lips stay zipped shut.
Trying to lick my own wound but I worsen the cut
Rhymes don't describe when God connects to our spirit.
In that split second, years of pain were understood a mile a minute.
The knowing of a translated ancient truth cradled my troubled conscience.
Living scripture reappeared scripted with the mercy and miracles of what God wants for
us.
I am guided back to church with divine guidance.
The proof is a supernatural knowing the holy spirit provides us.
I sit in the back of the church with my back to the wall of life’s punches.
Jesus speaks through the pastor as a conduit that knocks out my pessimistic hunches.
Our true home isn’t in the devil's playground it's in a graveyard.
It’s to happily walk the narrow road, carrying our cross as a loving safeguard.
Michael Colon published work can be found here https://www.clippings.me/michaelcolon.
PAROUSIA Magazine 