It’s unprocessable this world, God

As a saint I chose to weep

To this leverage I may keep

My soul aligned to speak

In tongues of dialect

I sung a lightning

Former sect

Alms to who

I hold regard

Lasting whisper

Shards of shards

Make known your

Native ways

Foreign dignity of latter days

Feet I praise

I know not my way

You seem to leave a lighter reach

I do not dare to cross your teach

Cross of inner sanctity 

Violated by limiting

The stillness of a hopeful clause

Interpret meaning in the heart of law