Immoral

Are you trully my savior?

A statue of purity and virtue

We meet face to face as the holy hymns and nature's winds clash through the refuge bearing your body and blood...

Captivating each being for a moment

Unconsious brightness on their faces

As if understanding... an all knowing illuminati

Of fake repentence and offered sacrifices

Are you trully my God of gods?

Blood stains on each hand

A drill of nails for all who had wronged

Yet your image, a gentle calm.

Disturbed by the trueness of your hazel eyes

Though knowing no blood flows

And no veins exist on your concrete Sacred Heart.

From these oak pews I see a decieving glance...

Is it warmth you exude or a look cursing my existence

Following my every movement...

A mocking grin or one praising my very essence.

Are you my Rock, my Shepherd?

Hold me with those built hands

Underneath that white cloak, unravel your wounds

A gripping reminder of your felt pain and offered salvation.

Kiss me then my Lord

Let me transcend into oblivious bliss

Touch my with your lips

Your flowing hair caress my longing and lost spirit.

Let my cheeks brush against the sweat on your chest

Having me taste the saltiness and your warmth with no regret.

Finally we stand face to face

Though with questions still lingering...

Forgive me Father for I have sinned.