Poet

Don’t use issues and reflect on past good places to form daggers against God. Saying Things were so good before, though I was down it was safe I knew the oppression. God why have you led me here it was easier there. How can I walk in disobedience and raise a fist against God? Have I still not gone up the mountain? Am I still doubting the grace and works of Jesus. Why is doubt soothing and careful with her words. Her pride is sharp and her false protection is large. She seeks the humble and lonely in heart. Deprives them of food and acts as Lord over them. In their weakness they serve her until the yoke breaks and they cry out. Their cry is deep from the bottom of their strife. A word, phrase or moan, a weight not even Moses could carry. Such is the hope they cry out with. A champion from heaven who bruises no reed, quick as the shinning of silver brighter than the morning star absolves all their grief and calms their hearts. Blinds the eyes of doubt and brings peace home. Yet in all his splendour after my tears had filled his cup and mine is empty ready for his over flow I gaze at a blind lady, shrieking in the shadow. In false humility I give her my hand and she eats my peace, whisper by whisper. So cowardly and fearful she speaks, cautious and careful she declared “listen to me I can hold you here and help you, it’s comfortable and changeless, it’s dark but known. Stay with me”. So is the cycle with the one who listens to doubt and does not drink from the cup renewed.