To The Heaven’s Glory Be Thy Name

To the Heaven’s glory be thy name        
Skin of atonement I bow unto the sovereigns whose journeys have already came          
If I shall fall short of thy glory before I take my last breath            
May I be given wings after the ascending from the stillness of death          
Before I asunder beyond the sun            
Bathe my soul’s belief in thy Kingdom          
On earth as in Heaven, it shall be won          
I rise to take in vain the occurrences in my life that never was          
Mercy be upon me            
To have soothed souls with my earthly investment to have always given universal love          
           
For the society who professes love with fork tongues          
Always bless their cup to runneth over with more than some            
And enough to share with those who are without none          
So shall it be written so shall it be done          
To the Pope may you cast aside silent iniquities among the Holy found in the religion of sin          
Compassion to the Christian Preacher who teaches to pass the offering plate before the service has begin          
Let my faith echo from the highest skies          
Ten centimeters, upon dilation may parents always hear their child’s first cries          
           
Abduction to innocent souls gone without a goodbye, preceding of numerous false hopes, no clues          
May the rock be lifted to give justice to the unrighteous and condemn the blind fool          
Returned to the cradle of loving arms            
Where love and warmth has returned displacing tearful storms            
To the men who prances around in ivory holed sheets            
Disunited in Psalms for all to the come to the table in Proverbs for all nations to feast          
Men of skill, the chosen ones to heal by sight unseen of faces upon the Hippocratic Oath            
Attend to heart, mind, body, and the mental anguish for the intellect, to never gloat          
           
Never to allow corrupted and purchased beliefs to puppet scientist’s hands          
To quietly depopulate the masses of a childbearing woman, the laughter of child, or eradicate the Creator’s image of man          
Bangies of the night roaming to share the depth of their soul on a hard bed of knox          
Leaving pieces of their self by the hour of the tick tock      
Give them peace in the comforts of slumber as alone they sleep           
Can’t we all just get along          
My Charka meditation found in the hymns blowing in the wind of my nightly songs            
I tell you these things they will surely come to pass            
Let my words in this testament expand farther than my mind to outlast          
Life is lived, death is only the repast          
           
To the Heaven’s glory be thy name