I am a man of imagination, emotion and prose.
My foundation is lucid so I can’t thumb my nose.
Ill- willed, I am; Pragmatic I may be.
Though I only seek the Holy Lamb so the majority will see.
By some, according to degrees of freedom, they say I have none.
But when they recognize their bondage they say I’m the lucky one.
They whisper things with embellished fire.
I hear them and cast them down with pure desire.
A quest is a quest no matter its intentions.
But I shant relent no matter their dissentions.
Am I dense? Well, it may be so.
But I will continue on through wind, words and snow.
I serve the Lord, hoping for a humble will.
My transgressions are many but he uses me still.
I proclaim the Glory of the King for he has made me well.
I rejoice in the Lord for saving me from incomprehensible hell.
I will march and march until all do hear proclamations of His Glory (and pray they fall on delicate ear).
Such declaration I feel through the Oneness of God.
How rejoiced am I when my chains I do shod.
How I am anxious to already transcend to that immaculate place that is Heaven.
I long for that home, but in time I shall rise; for now I will stay my course and avoid compromise.
Hardship may come and trial may scare.
I will keep girded my loins and always beware.
The Lord is my Shepherd, my Shield and my Strength.
If the Lord be with us, who can rise against?