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Uriel
A burning gate protects me
oh ye, falsehood, do not move
Mud dolls stand short and tall
faces of anticipation
Earth and winter crumble
but do not shed a year
Cast off the desecration
thine blade does sear.
I dare to dream to scream
and that all will look
and listen.
But by this burning gate
I was given mission.
A piety of uncertainty
that cannot or will not
be known.
A need for God, this alone,
by flame it was sewn.
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“Lots of ways to help people. Sometimes heal patients; sometimes execute dangerous people. Either way helps.”
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