The Fourth Hidden Prayer


My grandmother called them cats
Kept BB guns on standby
To shoot them
My uncle called them children
Kept sharp words on standby
To belittle them

Trespasses are a funny thing.

My aunt called them neighbors
Kept food on standby
To keep her enemies closer
My cousin called them classmates
Kept gossip on a notepad
To embarrasses them after school

Trespasses are a funny thing.

My dad calls them human
Keeps his knowledge hidden
To maintain his superiority
My mom calls it life
Keeps it drowned in bottles
To keep her own air pure

Trespasses are a funny thing.

Weapons on standby
In protection
In attack
In abuse of our own spirit

Trespasses are a funny thing.

It wears an invisibility cloak
The self-inflicted pain
Awaiting forgiveness
In love of our own spirit

Trespasses are a funny thing.

How can we welcome someone
If we won’t thank ourselves?

How can we repay another
If our wallet doesn’t spend
On us?

Trespasses are a funny thing.

They destabilize us
Lead us to believe ‘They’
Are something ‘We’ are not
Then vice-versa
They restrict us from traveling
The paths of our own glory


The perception of sin is altered by an ever changing awareness inherent in the unpredictable pities of human suffering. The perceived wrongs and rights of those we judge deserve equal attention, no less than what we should place upon ourselves. We are the product and the reward of our service lies in mastering the fear of manmade warning signs, which we must walk past to reach opportunities grounded in 100% Love.

We are men and women of constant sorrows, who in acknowledging our differences, can come together in song to be reminded that the sound of constant joy is heard in the forests of natural clarity.