A questionable existence

As I stand further in the future from the innocuous past; let thy judgement be steadfast and brutally true,

for the kingdom be chosen for the maker of all things;

then the wisdom  begets the reality of my tragedy.

I know of not why the bequest of one’s righteous existence be lost upon the heavenly realm; Thy splendourous iniquity is judgment upon thyself; not I that have revisited a destined mortality, be it of my own choice; thus an end of freedom to choose, yay a choice of gratification from this, my disastrous being. 

a golden harp be venture of which I am coursed for me, it is not, my love is the sound of true cello, my soul cries a violin of an emotional bleed; for which I have no talent to play, though I pass into nothingness, If it be not gods way. then prevail.