My fingers pray what my soul displays. It tosses and turns within the confines of my chest. It bleeds and cries with the lies of the enemy. Searching for truth that only comes from above.
Rainyfaye
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CATEGORY
life
My fingers pray what my soul displays. It tosses and turns within the confines of my chest. It bleeds and cries with the lies of the enemy. Searching for truth that only comes from above.
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COMMENTS
mlowe5 says: Such is the nature of God's sent from above. Beautiful. ONE. PEACE AND LOVE. |
OTHER POEMS WRITTEN BY Rainyfaye
The DifferenceLook at me as you would a burning fire, not with the look of lustful desire. Look at me with eyes of truth, not with the ones of a liar Look at me with a heart of devotion, not with a heart of lechery. Show me that you love me, spare me of your trechery.
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Peer into the Door of LifeWhen the sun shines, rays sprouting from the horizon. Hands are bloody from fighting the lion. When the moon has risen and the clouds surround, we pick up our bodies from the cold ground. When the birds fly free and chirp glee. The heart explodes from deep within thee. Grief has stricken, the clock strikes twelve. Never letting go of the anguish of which we held. |
DesertWandering the vast plains of the desert. Sand kicked up by bare feet. Searching for an oasis, no water to be seen. Following the paths of certain death, searching for fruit to eat. Hands grasping at the scorching fire, never knowing what time you have left. Tumbling down the grainy hills, face buried in dirt. Lie there, sleep, for it is where you and death will meet.
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EnduranceDays of yearning pull at my heartstrings, I wait for everything and nothing. Years of anguish feed upon my soul, how long will I endure? |
Cast downBow and arrow at the ready. Tip poisoned with grief. Released and fired on the hearts of the righteous, whose days are filled with sorrow. |
AgainAd infinitum, cycles of laughter and grief. Blood on the table when midnight strikes. |
Deaths mealThe undead feast upon her weary soul. Picking at it, piece by piece. Until her flame is extinguished. |
Feed the DeadValleys and mountains she treks. Dancing by the riverbed Feeding the undead. Never earning her eternal rest. |
All of itHot like spice, sweet like honey, cold as the barren winter, take it all or leave it where it stands. |
Morning WalkThe Mourning Doves flap their wings over the rising sun. One step, two, step, down the hills of sanctuary. Tracks left behind, paws follow suit, three followers to keep me company. |