Guilty

In the mist of life guilt comes running.
As an long dark worm in sneeks its way
into the smallest cell of its beeing.

As you see my struggle with closed
sensitivity, blood runs through all particles.
Nothing to clear in its own fear.

Run my love Christ, shampoo
the hidden tragedy of tears.

Longings of clarity and stillness.
For all those struggles and all those
who surrenders in the pain of love

Be Thy will done. Be so it.
Far more then the Superior,
are running the miles for life.
Are running for life itself.

Never again will shame
be laughing its horror
fearing my guts splashed out

In eternity wise men wispers
the knowledge of  everlasting 
thruth into my smiling ears.

No guilt was ever there, in
the illusion of a belived need
the gost haunted its house.

Such a relief, what splendour
when the gate shines open
to the miracles of – Thanks.