Look up said He,
Fear hath no hold upon you. No more...
How so? Repentance is but myth and I
am nothing more than the waves on the sand
changing, swirling though content, with the
knowledge of seeing angel's wings and
hearing the sweet call of mockingjay's song.
'Tis true that venom of snakes sets in and sits, patient
Yet more so is the light, the color of moonbeams scattered
against the ever vivid serenity of saving grace,
Never parting, always supporting,
looking upon the shimmer of sun rays
caressing His speech and to look up to see possiblity in the face.