At the end of my day, being but in complete ruins,
When that ancient sun,the light that obscures the beauty of the stars;
Upon the oceans bed,there he dies a death of the moon. When the stars rejoice,with the moon ruling their noon.
I being a servant of the sun,I took my body to rest,and there in my shell wherein I imitate death every noon. Gave rest to my light,she serves me well only in the night.
As my Spirit was catering chance to my flesh,I heard a voice,those whispers from a formless creature without flesh.
"I beheld from heaven,the works done under the sun..your flesh has a seed,that which is eating away your flesh. Those are the works,in my words I have said,it is finished!"
As I listened to hear more,assenting the experience; to the tiredness of my thoughts.
I felt a Spirit,as though another was in me; pushed me to stand from my countless layers in bed. I opened my mouth,that language I couldn't understand,as my own translator,I heard myself speaking a prayer. It wasn't shot,since the words were not mine.I continued,and my heart was ignited. As though I've mastered matter manipulation,I felt the inner man rejoicing, and with all that I hadn't known before, vastly it was now in my tongue. It was a great experience, with my heart in my tongue. The prayer that night, was for the dead sun to rise again, as the day dawns and until Christ is formed In me again. Amen
K