how can i begin to comprehend my every sinnor at least describe it?ni have had it up and down my throat is shovednwith voices that can't say enoughnit's drowning my ownni see the sense in its beliefni see the tension underneathndisfigures my often dying memorynlittle boy alone and allnstanding by the altar small and trying for a miraclenstaring at the candle flameni heard that it will call your namenif you have faithnbut not a tracenwhen i wake up often wonderedndid i dream?ngrowing up with minor fallsnmajor falls have made their callsna stranger in his own wakeni listened to my mum and dadnthe best a child could ever haveni owe it all to them.