Towards True Providence

The valley of Malkuth, so vast yet hollow
Instills time to dwell inside it
It bit the hand that fed it eternities ago
And made itself into a hollow deathfield

I shiver in the presence of its foul weeds
And rot from its waters
Though its constraints are weak
Like a parasite, it leeches off the essence

The nature that shouldn't be banishes the fragments
In which I yearn to abide
Shaped in the foulest of images
As a reminder of the walls that separate from Him

Inside the essence the ulcers are sprouting
Tied in the knots of spiritual decrepitude

As I walk towards true Providence, I declare:
This plain is before me, yet I deny it
I am, yet I am not