His ways


Minds and eyes tempered of steel
   Needs to be as the color'd skies ,
Others will always want more and will wish for the End
   Reasons who might know
some do it for lust,
some do it for wanting to snatch away anothers joy,
some others still,
                         will watch and wait,
                                                      like parasites ,
and Then, the time ripe
   will move in, gliding on footfalls of unclad feet,
watching as they approach
Still'd by a hand, nay that look
raised Eyes beholden
Take them away; carcerate them slowly
and then ajoin those halves again
   a makeshift job
Even jobe could not.
   Be not what the moons say,
whispered songs of faraway and far again
   Together, the mountains
                                        awash in red
will bathe in the Light
pristine waters flowing as the juncture is
wettened and cascades
His words, His voice,
                              flowing like a heavy lava
hot molten river over the senses,
claiming that what He wants
                                          and will keep
     Immured now as His

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