for those who see, i thank you. for those who speak, i silence you.

[darktrinity]

Detached, my mind strolls to Calvary,
hedged from the spring of human thought.
Venomed in the vestibule of Morbidity,
the Lamb cringes in doubt and despair.
Such ministry (igneous, supine and sincere)
upon the Afterwake, this thread of Sound we endear.
And like stars, the thoughts die and shoot downward
with a thousand screams.
It may be ill advised - this curious mind,
but how noble its devotion, how infatuated the passion -
It may be chagrined - these roots,
but how serene the voice, how reverent the fruit -
Rapt in the ways of Divine Mercy,
it shall forever persevere towards the Absolute Unity.