I got a chroma on my conscience
Between white and black
I stretched my hand over the hearth
It was a patch of silence or low violence
I gargle some red coal in my mouth
It was either fear of God or love of God
That retired me into solitude and consciousness
Like a snail walking on little salt.
I am trying to rebuild myself
After noise and stench; lust and sterility;
All sins fit with man like coat and tie.
It was really a field of garden eggs,
green and white; and some tomatoes,
Red and ripe. But some pulp and putrid came in
Because we are humans and flesh.
There was this globules of ashes on my imagination
Though I know I love, yes I do
But I am here to seek forgiveness
And to you oh God, for what you know I came
In regret, I say astagfirullah, astagfirullah, astagfirullah!