On Leaving the Fold

Terrible atrocities, committed. Apostasy. I'd never wish a death upon a friend or those who I hold dear. Blind logic, steel faith. Crying statues full of hate. I tell you I would never wish a harm done but I know that it's to late. And the one you once called son is now the man who stands alone. The one that lost his way, the brother come undone. And I know I will be let go, except in prayers, in hopes. The boy that walked your path is now cut from all of the old growth. Careful tensions have all broke. The wires snapped and then, once the tents have fallen the crowds have gone and the shadows are deep set in. Terrible images arrive. In your minds eye, in mine. What will become of that boy the one who languishes still in sin? Blind logic, steel faith. Crying statues full of hate. I tell you I would never wish a harm done but I know that it's to late. And the one you once called son is now the man who stands alone. The one that lost his way, the brother come undone.