Shiraz Bautista

We are like two planes bound to collide
Tinting the sky with hues of blood-red desire
Our embers, a tapestry woven with grace
From threads of doleful devotion
...

Our wine existed before what you all call the grape and the vine
our rivers flowed before what you knew as rain and water
our gardens bloomed before you ever stepped foot into our oasis
...

This unconscious mind
my holiest of weapons
the sharpest of blades
piercing through this veiled illusion
...

This temporal self
anchored by a pulsating vigor
distorting my limited perceptions
...

Here I am,
my spirit compromised
here I am,
the devil in disguise
...

I hear you laughing
you feel my passion
you feel my grip
in your hands
...

Although I am here before you, as a man put on trial, I feel anything but blessed.

I stand before your kingdom, guilty of defiling your sacred temple.
...

Oh beneficent one

Drew me closer to your divinity,
help me shed my mortal skin
...

Oh supreme one

As I tread your divine path,
I sense the deceiver's presence
...

Relinquish me from lustful intent
let me not survive on bread alone
let my belief perpetually bloom
from the mustards seeds that I have sown
...

Oh sublime one,

Liberate me from the chains of carnality and temptation
release from modern-day idolatry
...

In this epoch of apathy
I see the fallen
left by the wayside
struggling to make sense of their ongoing tribulation
...

All that I used to be
nothing more than memory
I am paranoid, I am cynical
but I'll keep praying for a miracle
...

Through faith, I move mountains
through faith, I rise from any fall

Through faith, I manifest miracles.
...

As I traverse this spiritual wilderness
seeking solace, a dwelling place
there is something I must confess
I am held captive in disgrace
...

Sin begins with the heart,
where dark desires may start.

Sin takes root in the mind,
...

My palace of gold
nothing but a shaky house of cards

My everlasting kingdom
...

With each glance at the rearview mirror
my hands slipping off the wheel
as I drive down memory lane
...

I watch the colors
slip through my hands
they bend and they bleed
as I slowly soak them in
...

So far gone
estranged and withdrawn
blinded by this melancholic shroud of mist
...