Jesus please - we’d rather you just picked a topic and stayed sweetly on it…
It is disturbing indeed when you speak doubt about an empire’s economy,
Whipping money men from temples and snubbing high Caesaryan divinity.
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But as has always been, alone I am the softest of lambs,
From our inner knowing, the lion in us laying wait to rise.
At last our Singular saintly turn:
Was raised to temple by humble family carpenters,
And traveled abroad to learn worldy suffering more,
I returned and saw the roaming State of the World,
So I lived the outer lands to understand cruel score,
Offering free health care, speaking for least of these,
I shone brightest at 27 but died by state cross at 34,
Setting renewed boundary within nation-state cores.
And now, this Celestial alien age:
Was raised to commune by devote saintly merchants,
So I fled to the urbanities to dance in unseeable lanes,Â
I burned out at 27, died at 34, departing mind until 36,
I was not one to save this world, but was the many lost,
Wandering haze by greedy spirits without human souls,
Turning cold eyes to try re-code god’s stubbornly costs,
Stretching further heaven’s ease, unto the least of these.
Come, speak your darkest sorrows to me,
For I have been so heavy for you already,
That I no longer feel death’s weighty pull.
And from such depths,
Let life sustain eternal.