Nothing Left, Only Hallelujah
Maybe, just maybe the old time preachers
had it right after all. What is left other
than this babbling from a tongue twisted and tied
in a knot once more, trying to explain
Grace to a non-believer? If you have never
experienced the color of the sky at sunset,
nor witnessed the coolness contained
in a single raindrop, how can you begin
to comprehend that nothing is left?
There can be no addition to this bliss,
only these repetitions of praises
of Hallelujah- strung like rosary beads
across my soul, hallelujah, hallelujah,
As an Ecstatic Poet, my aim is to awaken in you, the part of you that knows the truth of your being, the beauty of your soul.