Black Poetry : The Terror

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His Terror is living deep in my heart.
There it gnaws at my being and sets me apart.
My soul is unsettled for my spirit no rest.
God has given His gifts. Now He asks for my best.

Best of what? I cry out staring hard at the mirror.
But no answer is found screaming silence brings tears.
Tears of sadness? Of joy? Of frustration? Who knows.
God has pointed his finger. This is life how it goes.

He’s given me strength, with a will to survive.
A strong wife to love always, healthy children to guide.
He’s provided The Food mind and body will thrive.
He gives of His Breath, my soul is alive.

But His Terror is ruthless and gives me no clue,
what piece of His history I’m born to pursue.
What part may I pass to my children some day?
Only goodness, true kindness, and tolerance I pray.

Yes, His Terror is thriving it wakes me each day.
His Terror reminds me --- I may have no say.

 

[$$RICH$$]

ONE HAVE SAY JUST DO IT IN A GODLY WAY ......DEMONS BE NOT
FORTH NO TERROR ON SELF SOUL ......HOLD ON !!

 

[captflash]

Thank you, thank you, thank you. Appreciate your time $$RICH$$ and more than that, your comments on each of my offerings...Your very generous.