Inside The Pastor's Heart - Poem by Olufemi Ajasa
Office, the vine of Divine
Profit, mundane to mine
I am so high, floating on the wings of your hype
I sin not in your eyes
And sick not in your hands
I look up to forecast rain drops.
In it, reads my son.
So, ‘Thy will be done' will be wheeled on.
I know I said.
I said I know.
But within I know,
No eye within.
I scream his name for you to hear;
To wash my guilt and all I fear.
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