The eye of God is watching me.

A look can say so much, a stare can seem to speak.

See my inner beauty, it’s but a lack of inner peace.

A holy witness to the depths my life has reached.

The mouth of of God, it speaks to me.

The sacred syllables, a promise I will keep.

The chance for freedom at the risk of losing sleep.

That gentle whisper I have always known to be.

The hand of God is moving me.

A force of creation moving free.

Between these fingers, violently

summoning forth the best of me.

The eye of God is watching me.