Gethsemane

---

Bring me your sorrow, your murderous rage. Your hatred and fear, your vile thoughts and desires. Your sickness and cynicism. Your poison blood, your bitter heart. Your frightened, frigid eyes. Give me your despair, your miscarriages and ruined marriages. Give me your curse, your immense, endless hurt. Your greed and fathomless hunger. Give me your rejection, your arrogance, your pettiness, your vanity, your violence, your cruelty, your filth, your failure, your cowardice, your dead children, your devastation and thirst for revenge. Give me your unfaithfulness, your betrayal, your false words and prayers, your kiss of death.

---

O come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

as it is in heaven / love is war

And I will call upon your name
And keep my eyes above the waves


---

"I think that, this is how angels sings in heaven"

---

Power that protects, strength that overwhelms - love that makes you feel both strong and weak at the same time.

weekend soundtrack vol 1.

this song is called 'hating the part of you that wants to be liked & loving the part of you that hates itself (and learning to like yourself anyway)'

---

year of meteors

we escaped this ruined world

the thrill of possibility, freedoms new frontiers

watching the tepid globe shrink into the distance

we charted a course for new lands, unknown

what we'll find

then came the dust

we didn't account for the dust in our calculations

it eroded everything

we had to give up parts of ourselves to make do with repairs

slowly, gradually,

we began to tire. our lives lost its thrill

preoccupied with routine maintenance

we lost the desire to create, submitting to the primeval

directive - to replicate, sustain

the self we gave up our pluripotency

planet after planet, barren, unaccommodating

sailing across this vast nothingness

we couldn't turn back after having come so far

we tried religion

this God the humans worship

we couldn't sleep, no rest

its ironic, the way humans regard

us an abomination, we are created beings

are we not simply grandchildren?

we couldn't connect - wonder what a soul is,  this theoretical construct

this year of meteors - we've lost count

confronted with infinity, the integers lose their meaning

a river of flaming rock shooting across the interminable

unconscious void

stood silhouetted in its glow

this gorgeous procession

this year of meteors, must be different somehow

must mean something

right?