Sunday, May 1, 2011

Towards the Light I run,
Confused, I lose the path.

Towards the Light I stumble,
The closer Your perfume the more your Light burns.

Roads, paths, back alley-ways
Scar the trek ravaged while lost.

Found, the Moon directs the eyes
The injurious paths of past,
To grow the wheat must die..

To live the past must die,
To grow the sin must die.

Hope, my only salvation.
Light, my only yearned for guide.

Sure footed I stumble and fall.
Sure footed sins from past faced.

To grow I must fall,
To live I must die.

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