Is The Sentiment Of Reality Really, “Thy Will Be Done”

Upon God’s image who belays this planet and rejoices in the demise of his superficial heart
Is a lost man to his own soul begging for redemption in the Sovereign dust to dark  
To lay upon the thistles of his deferred dreams  
Rich hands, empty offerings of soothing balm in the nature of his being    
In the dense of his sanctuary, the intellect kneels for the reprieve of earth  
Does not the soul in chaos still strive for rebirth  
We struggle in our daily endeavors to find perfection in the evolution of the day  
No seconds is promised in our slumber as we lay  
Amid gratitude to awaken come the morning glory  
Knees lessening in thankfulness to pray  
   
Raindrops to fertile the parched land    
High noon sunrays to warm the soil tilled by barren hands    
There is remorse in tears from blind eyes  
Who looks around but not deep enough inside to see the impending doom of his own demise  
Heinous idioms to confess they know the truth yet stand on the throne of theological lies  
Ancient Kings and Queens depravation to conquer whispered from the skies  
   
Thy will be done  
Casting stones, hide the hand, Moorish pride castrated at the roots for the truth of the tongue  
My mortal presence represented by the tenth dimension in this beautiful realm we call earth  
Not regulated by man’s hand to command, or a woman's hands to reprimand
My enigma one will never understand    
But written in the stars of a cosmic rebirth  
Reach my perception of my cognitive awareness in that higher plane of existence  
Beyond this, nothing can be imagined by us lowly mortals, one with the universe and only here to serve the time of a spiritual mission  
   
Which makes it the natural limitation of what we can only conceive  
With the naked eye, one with self in the benediction of worth, you could not perceive  
What good is a person to others who does not love self  
Do its spirit shun the shadows of its face in disgrace  
Or show the pillar of false sainthood as one may dwell in the turmoil of his own dark wealth  
Hands cannot reach the holy grail of a blessed mind  
You will attempt to find the key, however not ordained by God design  
On by man’s time  
And still not sip the equation of the truth as you come to find