Like a river flowing,
or the winds blowing.
I always come to you,
as so many do.
Dressed in dark robes,
til' time stands, eventually it explodes.
I always stand for you, a minister,
preaching of the sinister.
What wrongs do I write,
yet it truly is not out of spite.
Warmth comes with curiosity, where it eventually leads,
though; hope filled script flies only on black wings.
Fallowing the preacher,
my heart's only teacher.
A man who cannot love,
because he praises above.
Laying in waiting, for destiny's call,
is not as much torture as my heart's fall.
May comes with rain,
washing my pain down the drain.
Leaving the sun in it's wake,
for my own sake.
Flying on raven's wings,
this is how I have come to think.
Though, love is no bother,
please tell me father,
have I sinned in my love.
Ask the almighty from above.
