Purpose 1- Gene Vessels Poem by Chris Noir

Through what gloomy cold of space,
Came you to my hands to grip?
And why O, why, does molten grace,
Drown all living but one ship?

Through what darkened dawn of time,
Came you for my eyes to see?
And why, O why, do sinners fry,
Down where core of earth should be?

By long roads of strife I come to you,
your hands do grip to replicate,
And grace sprays out of it's foul mouth,
To let one living propagate.

By centuries I come to you,
Your eyes can see for there is light,
And there's no sin save what you imagine,
And Earth's core's ought not fuel your fright.

Through smallest things that taint the air,
Does come the answer to your grief,
breathe in, breathe out say a prayer,
Until the sweetness of release.