Writing letters of consolation to recount loss
When every breath of failure is just another cross

Dignity gone to die with pride when humanity is its own grave
Seeking to resolve this conundrum, a crisis of faith, I slave

Lost in query of this go between
The flesh is blind as all things seen

Consolations like back handed compliments of comfort for sorrow
Of prizes, regards, and promises, nuances of doctrine
Searching out the mystery
Patterns of disappointment coincide with blessings throughout history

Do I project my expectations of presumption, when all that I long for is just a matter of assumption?
Have we time to realize our dreams before the end as we awaken to desire?
Motives beneath the surface, living for God’s or my own purpose?
Whether of wrath or love poured out I’m destined to start a fire

Trace back words to voice my will to forge integrity
A thousand soliloquies composed
Poetry, journals, and perpetual apologies in prose

The residue of my heart in erasures made of books unsold
Trying to find new ways to frame my story, till every verse of honesty is told

I embark on new frontiers to write the light in an authentic way
I rise to speak but shadows utter in the undertones of every word I say
In my attempt to redeem the art of truth in the vulnerability of word play
Learning to share my reality in everything I’m yearning to convey
To bankrupt hallmark appropriation of out of context bible verses of cliché

I revert back like relapse as I keep these letters on repeat
Aiming to relate and draw on the common ground
Addictions, hopes, losses, and sadness of defeat
I unearth my heart as every treasure lost is found…