Yes its written, and so?!
We will do what we do
How can God understand,
How it feels here on lands?

Soon he comes by the clouds
Tearing all of the shrouds.
And He left us the way
Did he fore-see today?

All the good and the perfect
Is our duty to project
But we have to scrape, scrape away
All the garbage in the way.

If we say we’re born of God
Then we do the work
Not because of words of air
No because of who we are

Let his punctuations puncture
Me of thoughts without his future.
And let his verbs reverberate
Into the deeds I perpetrate.
He’ll paint my adjectives
And because he lives
I am a noun named
Only by the breath he penned.

Still the choice is really
Made individually.
I’ll think the way he does,
Am sticking to the Words.