The Cry Of My Soul Poem by mark anthony st. rose

At mornings I find it hard to pray,
on my knees not Knowing what to say.
My heart numb and fatally cold,
the results of an uncaring world.

Tears begin to flow as I try to find my soul,
to just hear a whisper from God my goal.
Unsuccessful I go about my day,
empty motions not seeing my way.

I marry the God 'money' instead,
how to get more of it fills my head.
Sorrowful, insatiable I go along,
something telling me this path is wrong.

At the days end I am once more on my knees,
asking God to free my soul please.
Free my soul, free my soul,
free my soul please.




copyright@2006 by Mark Anthony St. Rose. All rights reserved.