Homage to My Lord

Of all his saints do marches come with grace.
Dance through time to ungodly tunes.
Let heavenly stars unfold in your hands
whenever you wrestle with your darkness.
Celebrate my fruit within your garden
when I bleed me into your soul.
For within your electric body lies a fountain
that waits for you to purify worldly deeds.
Childish tears consume feverish clouds,
and an olive branch becomes my walking stick
when my time has come to dance
through your golden halls of jubilation.
Rectify me holistic creed of my youth
to absorb every drop of your Divine spirit.
Shelter me within your motherly arms
and sanctify your marshmallow children who
wither into ashes inside your worthy belly.