I dream to speak His name in any fervor
I dream to dream his name meant nothing besides “lurker”
And as dreams come true, I wonder where, or when or how
I am to be without
Life… and all it’s presents and all its futures and all its nothing
Sin is thinking fatalistic, and unbecoming
There is no one here who’d take my hand and pray
After which they’d abscond and be away
If He lurks, as in my dreams, I know He’s here, but reasonably imbalanced
Hands don’t touch ghosts
They’re ignored
However calloused