Aftersin

The mountain explodes

The reason for which is not understood,

A molten crest

Slowly overshadows, unimpeded.

They wake in shock.

They run in horror.

They stand in awe.

Slowly swallowed, in obsidian tombs.

 

I run

As one is taught to do

When temptation pines for you.

Sinful lava’s ploys astound,

And I’m convinced to turn around.

I run,

As thoughts thwart me with, “True?”

Away from my last glimpse of You.

Sin’s pleasure quickly turns to pain.

I’m stuck yet sorry, so, in vain,

I run.

 

I am overcome

Underneath the survivors’ mourning.

I am darkened stone

Engulfed in the Void, frozen, burning.

 

I yield

As one is ought to do

When suffocating sins bemuse.

I cannot forgive, though I confessed,

I writhe encased in false regrets.

I yield

As thoughts comport me, “Do,”

When entranced in awe of You.

Abate my eyes from Isaiah’s coal

Or fix my eyes and rest my soul?

I yield.

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