Who will be my apothecary and mix for me an elixir that will kill my pains and revive my soul?
Who will prescribe an ailment for this ailing deject broken heart... albeit, we smile, howbeit, teardrops lingered somewhere... Pain is a pernicious reminder of our human conditions... We never wanted to be the God that made us gods.. we only wanted to see beyond imperfections and be free from immortality... howbeit, t'seems; we are now 'free from the freedom' that saved us from death...
perhaps, the time has come for the angel of death to as well ask for the breath of life... not from a baneling, howbeit, from the power that entered and left the grave... the power that made gods coffins lowered in the funerals of men!!! The Name Jesus!!!
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