vosreves

Spirits once cursed my hands to meet the sharp, wooden floorboards

they damned my knees to the ground

and with rivers flowing alongside the curves of my cheeks,

a silent ave maria slipped through my shivering lips

Infront of all the angels present I begged for forgivness

but there were no answers, 

silence wrapped it's arms around me, but gave me no comfort in sorrow

could the angels not hear the aching of a womans pleading heart?

Throughout my life I had wandered in darkness, seen the children of tomorrow suffer from the actions made by man today, and yet I never seemed to find words worthy of speaking, 

for words of salvation are difficult to encounter when your own heart is tortured in great pain.

On pedestals high, priests in hatred speak of the poisoned sin; violate the rules written by the sacred hand and your deliquency shall haunt you throughout both life and death

But whom gave a priest the right to judge?

Whom gave them the right to curse and forgive?

for they are like us, they are but man, 

not angels, goddess nor divinity itself, 

meaning they have no right to speak of holy authorities, sins nor even forgiveness 

for they know nothing of the suffering that torments humanity outside safe cathedrals. 

And as I stand upon wooden floorboards, 

looking up towards the windows painted with such sore and tender strokes, 

I come to realise the meaning of true belief.

For it could never be found in the hands of a priest, 

in the words of a book, 

nor in a statue or monument.

For true belief can only be found in the most essential chambers of our hearts.

From now on,

look upon us as individuals, not sinners nor saints

For we all possess the anwsers 

for we can close our own eyes, or for once let light in 

for we are truth

for we are brilliance 

we are divinity.