Chiaroscuro

A white sheet of canvass
Hungers for colour
Awakens with the touch
Of running fingertips
Probing with sweet invitations
Gentle promises of forever-
Become a halo on the head
Easy succumbs mix with fear
And smooth shimmers
Tightens and encloses
Grips with salt and muffled cries
Senses reeling, petals tearing
The bottle pops as reverence shatters
And drips of red run down
On the promiser

A white sheet of canvass
Meant for fine sketches
Of chalks and pastels
By palms of immaculate
At a moment of opportune
Is eternally stained
With burning gradients
Of grey passion
Throbs with veiling techniques
In a climax of strokes and shadows
Pulses of black remorse
A heart sore...
No, not beautiful at all

Without Your Mercy

"God is more than just. If He is just and fair only, then we (for all our measly worth) would have been destroyed by now. We do not want justice. Thank God He is merciful..."
-Pastor david Sumrall


Without Your mercy...
I am a mere dust
A purposeless soul
A being devoid of beauty
Nothing but unmolded clay.
A spirit incapable of love
a lost sheep
A barren existence
An insolvent entity.
A lonely isolation amidst a crowd
An unredeemed captive
The black in an unsightly cloud.
I am a lasting filth
A false actuality
A volatile fragrance
A choir in cacophony.
I am nothing but unsought offering
An illness in recrudescence
A twig swayed by waves
Just a sinner in despondence...