The Place of Dwelling

weak hearts and self-pity

loathing in a holiest of temples

unable to comprehend

that melancholy is death

weary of this pain

seeking a transcendent reign

nowhere to be found

lie upon lie

that we must reach sky-high

to quench our bloody thirst

what blindness has stricken

what sickness has come?

my mother, earth

weeps in longing for her children to notice

I notice and laugh

no cares to tend

only myself do I cherish and mend

weak hearts and pain, regret and sweet melancholy

no more, I pleasantly bid thee

rapture, ecstasy, and delight unbound

the tunes of my soul, lost and found

now and forever, unto eternity

for God Himself dwells within me

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