Pantokrator

One and two, torteling through, given up was nothing taken. He's alone in plight, blind in sight, his sins leave him forsaken. His shame filled fakeness was figured out, understood by all but none. The past is over, yesterday doesn't exist, what's done is always done. Lost in smiles, nodding heads, handshakes feel empty and hollow. Hugs cold and queer, lacking any warmth, discomfort comes to follow. He shakes and sways, back and forth, unsafe in his hopeless haven. Crying to God for Him to send a dove to brawl the raven. His answer comes in the form of a book, considered to be "The Good". Yes, yes, each page flys forth, showing what's right and how right should. Given grace by God, he knows these things aren't what he has deserved. Praying for mercy when He has spared the bad things he was served. The point is after all he's learned, the most painful of his life's lessons. Progress to move his chains forward and never to seek perfection.