A Weeping Jesus

I exalted your throne way above Allah’s Heaven  
The tree of life I instilled upon the crest of your crown twenty-four-seven  
A Yoruba God, who could not see past his own loins to spiritually believe  
You will chase the wind like a fallen tree no rest until your mind, heart unto Egypt’s pyramids you will come to perceive  
A man cannot live by bread alone  
Not when his waver of incantations falls among chaos, in his wandering spirit he must atone  
 
I elevated your cause upon my bosom from the land of Canaan, Rome, Jerusalem, I followed the gift of your heart  
The Creator whispered to me to give you domain over the sky to bring weary souls out the dark  
I gave you the guidance of the sun, the cleansing of water, where the illumination of your pilgrimage as man, will be found in the rebirth of Earth’s lullabies  
The oath was unsealed now laminated on cold wind like bitter outcries  
The mightiest of man you had in the palm of your hands  
Power of the Holy Quran you squandered, wisdom is quiet, a boisterous creed will always echo from a foolish man    
You walk among the sacred land given unto you, a Sire unto every Kingdom  
Where horses in the movement now gallop when they run thy will shall be done under the Sun  
 
In silent as you slithered upon grapevine after grapevine  
Bedded poison into the chambers of your mind  
On the hill of Golgotha, my whispers of assurance healed you through many lifetimes  
Nursed your body, uplifted your stance  
Mesmerizing as Queen, a Fairy, a poetess, my honor given to any man  
Reached out to pull you up in your wobbling stance  
Placed you across my table sharing a glass of wine  
I do not covet, I do not chase, I am who I am, the orator of words, if they fit then for the moment you read, you are mine  
 
In my bed  
In your head  
Took you back to Genesis, closed your eyes, we owned the Garden of Eden  
Natural caresses, soft touches, to the intellect, it makes it feel so good when you cannot tell if it is make believing  
 
I bow unto mankind, I have nothing to offer, I have no more  
As my invocations upon my scrolls, they are upon my sacred shores  
They have the sweetest stories where now my honey gently pours  
My love unto the skies is universal to my divine Kings who lay upon my soul their echoes sailing to my ears  
I must now softly adhere  
 
 
Peace be unto you