In all things, art is like tender wounds. Only a few will heal.
Earnestly shedding the light that darkness yields.
We touched the starry skies less we sleep.
We harness the passions of our dreams.
We surrender multitudes – uneased mysteries.
We ride the banks that our forefathers,
trapped our burdens, through the blood.
And we surrender, this thunder between the skies.
Therefore, our eyes run clear,
our knees sweat, our bodies transcends a common pain.
As we pray – on the mountain in my soul,
We touched the starry skies less we sleep.
Krissy Mosley Ministries 
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