The night shall not hold me. She shall not take prisoner my spirit and then bargain with it for my soul. I have known the streets of want, the stockpiles of oppression. Now, as I sit in freedom, I refuse to look back at that which has kept me from existence.

I was not my own you see, I was not free to bear the weight of creation. Instead, in its place I had desire, want and sloth. Now, at the right hand of God I will bear witness to his wrath upon that of which he made and condemned.

It wanted my soul, it wanted that very blood of my being. I was fooled and did not see as I let myself be led blindly through a tunnel that promised the divine but gave me entrails. I watched it all happened and studied myself as I unravelled into nothingness at the contempt of my own divinity.

But I awoke, I awoke and the ground moved at my every step as to show the wonder of my creator and the joyful pain of his righteousness. I will not look back, I will not look back. The mystery and depths of the water beckon me to discover how deep she goes. I will not look back, I will not look back.

J.M. Prater