When I was young and small and the world large I thought I would be lost in this world so harsh. complicated and confusing how will I to find my place In this jungle my place in this time.Beneath the bridges on city streets my bed was concrete amidst the sleet.Wind that cuts and rattles the teeth the shiver and the shakes from life on the street.I prayed for shelter I prayed for home But I had the spirit so I wasn’t alone.I saw a strang thing in the black of nightA homeless man cusses as bikers go by.Turning around their helmets black in Nazi style they come riding back.They pick up the man with foolish pride who now regrets he bothered their ride.In the air through shop window glasses he flies and a second quickly passes and the noise subsides.Then the riders return to their quest in the night of showing off steel steeds till the morning light. Both bikers and fool had something in common the clash of folly and hearts long forgotten.the man un repentant amidst the glass and broken remnant Of a shop display now recumbentHis folly clings to him a forlorn raiment.The sun soon rises a predictable thing that promises warmth and surety of spring and will tarry no longer amidst the couds but find me waiting for some warmth for now.The courts await my presence todayTo answer for my own hollow display of rejected emotions that I did take on some innocent windows that I did brake.The royal procession of many it seems have struggled with pasts and broken dreams who after awhile could not hold it all inThe pain that dwells in caves hidden We answer the call one at a time to answer for justice to answer for crimeWe stand guilty and yet justified what else could we do with the torment inside that tries to undo Some shuffle off with a sentences to carry some are removed no more freedom to tarry in the lonely places within their souls instead to the dungeons that steel bars hold.The stars seem bright that night as I watched one of them fall into a bottle of scotchThe sons of men lost in the bight the sword swinging with practiced might self recrimination to make heads bow in remorse drowning and not knowing howTheir arms are held behind their backs as demons take vantage of wills that are slack Another day passes as I silently watch like some spectator of gladiators practicing sport I watch the carnage daily inflicted on young foolish hearts always conflictedTruth or lies it’s hard to decide which one promises a more joyous RideThey spurn all correction as there taught to do by the advertised suggestions from maker’s of brews that promise the world but bring only death and a shadow of glory a sparkle at bestThey prey on the young for their future markets to ensure their own wealth innocent targets that parants forsake to the wolves of tv and Facebook and ticktock and all in betweenSurrogate mothers and nurses of babes who give them everything if they missbehave They eat the fruit once forbidden that grows inside us seemingly hiden from blowstill sudden revelation brings it to light and we are found naked and shamed by the inevitable light that wants to heal and wants to teach but we shun it and hate it Who are you to preachI’m free I’m good I’m pure I’m stable they cry aloud beneath the table of the banquet promised to those who chose to except forgiveness and love but instead they reject the hand held out to a stubborn people who walk in the light of their own hewn steeplessSparks fly high into the night and daylight revealing what was done in his sightThe weaping, that sound, from heavens tears that witnesse the deaths from thousands of years of children forlorn blind wandering souls without purpose or merit buried in holes awaiting the moment all hell brakes lose and heaven returns not with love but a noose to all who arise to find their reward promised from creation to those who despise the one who’s spirit lives inside the breath in our lungs and the beating of hearts pure energy through veins built from the start from clay and bone and the creator’s own hands he shaped us and to bring us a promised landFor himself he made us to be his glory but instead we tried to write our own storyBeginning to end It was all about us and the things that we want in people we trustTo bring us delight and to bring us our pleasure and we left him our maker the purest treasureThat Pearl of great price of fathomless glory the one they call Christ who redeemed the story and wrote and ending that we all can agree is really good news for you and for me.
