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LIVING & KNOWING IT

ALIVE

The quest to just have;
With ease to so take,
Contrasts not each half
But much in its wake.

From where does it come,
This craze to just live?
Is it his seeds that roam,
Or her eggs’ monthly give?

It is maybe just an urge
To please as to own
And to have that edge
Over the lust so borne?

Ought it then to be,
An impulse put and set.
In the essence that He
Copied as the life He let.

BORN TO SIN

Sin is not just outside, somewhere;
From where it comes without fear,
Disintegrating our shelled defenses;
To break and consume our senses.

It is inside us, just right within,
Where it sees through us so thin
And struggles to appear right out,
To roam and enjoy its world about.

Alive so well to breed its yield;
It pushes and urges us to build
A worldly home for it and us
To wait outside, in mutual loss.

ALIKE

SAME

Man hides sin,
Yet he is seen.
He seeks to win,
Lame as keen.

Lord you reign,
Over all same.
Vague or plain,
Your wild is tame.

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