lost

written in light upon the decaying walls
of the once proud temple of my dead heart
are the sacred words echoed through the halls
of the minds of men since thinking did start:

"i know the way god chose not to reveal.
his empty heart has nothing to you to give.
if you would know the secrets he did conceal,
sacrifice yourself that i might live."

i recall the times when love did heal me
of afflictions revealed to be divine.
yet, looking down on this fallen debris,
i see i fell prey to a voice not mine.

"you are not the last, nor were you the first,
to find yourself used as my dark disguise.
the absence of god created this thirst
that made it simple to possess you with lies."

and when god speaks there is a deathly silence...
even from him.
he gave me the signs to which my mind did violence,
and now my soul burns in the hands of the seraphim.