Acclimatize my house of reason, dear Jesus.
These seasons are treasons of an evil beacon.

Light becomes desire camouflage as fire.
A boiling pot fevering cold from a lower point
till up high becomes a sore in our mid-core.

I can’t take this anymore, insecurities – galore.
Acclimatize my house of reason, please Jesus
Change these treasons as a anointed seasons
bring that beacon a light of optimism
light our hopes with humanism till evil
turns into a fleeting season amongst reason.

Written by: L. L.

2013-07-02

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