On the Canticles of Concave Circles

On what I have deemed and therefore defined, the "Canticles of Concave Circles".

Canticles of Concave Circles, are the derivative of a soul or a member of a collective of souls, attempting to become recognizable to God, centuries after full non-repentance of sins committed. A soul or soul of souls, is incapable of escaping yearn, desire, need, and want of which is the continual delirium of Soulistic Vanity, the Self-Induced hatred of souls, and the ultimate rejection of all truths. Thus, canticles act as the narrative of, "The Pleas of Hell". The entreaty of the definitive Concave Souls, attempting to gain entrance into the heart of God, after the final encounter of Self-Refutation. Therefore, these experiences have been identified as the, "Phantoms of Souls".

The Penetrable Pleas from, "The Agonies of Souls", loosed out from whence they went. In and out of souls. Housing themselves within the Netherworlds of Concave Circles.

Canticle on, "The Loneliness of Evils":

God, you have looked upon my lifeless countenance. You have found me dead. Suffering from Self-Escapism. Lonely. My soul has sunken my spirit into the underground, right where I believed I belonged. Spiritus, speak thy name. Call me out once more, for I have sought the isolation of me to fruition. My attempts to hide from the soul, have broken me. Lost within the circles of hell. In and of a certain place. Hungering for light. I have pleaded with the angels of the circles, with no return. And thus, I utter, arise me oh Lord to the very place of which only you can find me. The place that belongs to you alone. I humbly offer you the soul I have rejected. The winds of me that are remote and unfrequented. Sharpen the quality of my character. Allow me to hear what you have been listening to within me. Redefine my oneness.

Therefore, incline thine every ear of Lord. I fervently accept your loneliness. You gave me rightful placement, and you have been denied. You sat me upon a remote and unfrequented place, so that I may rise. Out of the reach of the enemy, thine own soul. You sat me upon the fire behind the veil and poured me into the living embers of truth incarnate. Because of this, I now realize, you can find me once again. Oh how my soul cries out. Agonizing in and out of time. Over the relinquishment of thine own soul.

Dr. Sonny A. Dotson-Johnson