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Break

ograve

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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