I walked through the valley of the shadow of my ambitions
chained by the hell in this world
I squeaked
Give me a break
And you
Gave me a break
A break in my arm
A break in my heart
hardened like a:
wheel of stone
Crown of thorns
Cold and dirty floor
Where the Christ placental cord lay new born
I needed a rest
So you
wrested me
Broke my hip
And stressed me
Push the sphere up
Shattered limbs
Push the sphere up
No shade. hot winds.
Push the sphere up
I wanted a breath
And I filled my lungs
Smoke and poison in my blood
The silence to my pleads
Tacit struggle on my knees

Bring me low.
I give up.
Beat this dead horse and break my cup
Whatever pottery metaphor
Start over from the ground floor
I knocked and you kept shut the door
I don’t care anymore.
Out of the whirlwind:
(Prepare like a man)
“You say ‘you left me to do this all on my own’
No YOU left ME to do this all on your own”
How many mornings I waited outside and you prayed to your palm god full of glass and black light
How much mystery you haven’t delved with me
Exchanged for fixation on laptop or tv screen
Plugged into the matrix you fight and then numb
I’m opening the storehouse if you’ll sit and shut up.
Explanation:
I struggle as many do, with submission to God.
I see it as a negative quality in a world of weak men, to be submissive. But to submit to a more powerful authority is to become one with that movement and gain the power from that communion. The brotherhood. Love and power. I miss out on it when I toil alone without guidance from a King. How can I be the King of my household well if I am not accessing the greatest guidance and power source available? When God allows misfortune to carve us into better men, let’s keep smiling. The storm makes a better sailor. Hold fast.
Nathaniel Cooley
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