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“The Fallen”



Remote,
he sees himself 
in the reflection of cold close 
yet distant shop windows, 
his final journey along the 
Hard Time Road
walking alone, 
unforgiven, no home
for the rest of his natural life 
a million knives 
embedded impeding 
words wrapped around him
all bleeding 
lacerated unseen,
invisible to all
are his criminal soul's bones, 
faux alibis  
now hairline receding,
the judging self-righteous 
sit on their untarnished thrones
unblemished and
Nicene Creeding


Vacant eyes
Vacant smiles, 
no interest in 
past history,

"What of his childhood? 
Look at mine!",
forgotten all the other children
burnt, buried now characters
in a sad, dark rhyme;
they too come
from hungry homes 
some where normal
stepped well and truly
in madness 
well out of regular time...

This time, no jury
kangaroos all 
skip merrily home,
here begins the Forgotten
buried by judge - 
there was never 
no time for 
blue gumming jury
over in under a day
banged in a bus
he's crucified carried away

Meanwhile, 
The Remnants,
sit in another State,
gutted and ruined 
dying
far far far 
away
day after never-ending 
bleeding never-ending days

...here is their true purpose for once 
the judges and all flying monkeys off course
Assizes all sitting on perch
the alienated seeking 
are sought 
to remit what is best
in their understanding of what is the best;
intelligence, a pallid behest for an 
ordinary magpie choking 
on bad apple worms -
in this instance,
they all forget for once their own past, 
their own secrets waived and 
like complacent cows 
fed green as green grass
they judiciously self-warranting grin
cat-o-nine-tails are brought forth
to begin eternally flaying him, 
while in his caved in mind he 
repeats over and over again,
when he was a child who flayed
the real Jinn?


Well,

Where it all began, 
It begins...

Ignorantly they 
pass his childhood, and remark,
"he is a bad apple, rotten to the core, let's begin..."
With their salt infused best barbed wire, 
they forget his childhood, he has sinned
they lay the tinder, spread the fuel...
the Witch Hunt ends,
the match is lit,
light the fire
let death begin

Time is served 
in his dead heart and mind
another locked cell, his
fast melting mad mind 

His thoughts, the screaming quite voice 
inside his mind, without hesitation agree -
he deserves to be forgotten for all time, 
from turned backs well shuttered closed eyes,
He is a fallen pariah to those in his lost world,
family thread bare, his friends now all his enemy ignore him, 
or with sarcastic glee throw their stones 
damn him to hell’s fire for all of eternity

he burns in his own hell daily
he sets light to his own funeral pyre

A call quietly whispered
now and again when he's want
to listen to the voice peeling
through other dimension, a glass onion,
there a ghost of an adult holds a child in lost time, 
forgives the present, others like this wraith 
would n'ere be so forgiving-
forgiveness by those holding stones crimson
is never granted, Hell is a hell of a business -
maybe some give for a while, then later 
their forgiveness is cruelly retracted
but the phantom caller’s not “others”
the caller thinks lateral yet decent 
to a turned back in the mirror
to forgive now, he must have his Freedom -
Let the caller now complete this:

Perhaps Love 
is a recidivist 

We, the Lost
are all near it, 
We, the Lost
are all missing it

For in truth
"We" 
are all 
"ONE",
human -
surely,
 "I AM" 
is in all of us,

- I want - 
- I will -
- I Am -
- No, I will never fall? -
I will never fail you...

"The Fallen"
surely are 
"The Called", 
the ones
the Lion is calling?

as He walks bleeding 
barefoot towards them 
Legions of Angels 
he’s leading
to gather 
The Called 
to hold close 
with ALL of his strength
with ALL of his LOVE 
with the strongest of 
ALL his Prayers
to remove 
all the dark nights
from Past’s imprint 
from all Lost Souls 
that are bleeding?
He makes clean pages 
of all of their stories’ sad footprints
to walk with Him
through the gates
after walking The Road 
to all of those stairs

God is in all of us surely
He holds Black Ball
He holds White Ball

Surely The Fallen
are The Called 
the ones
The Lion is calling?

to be blessed, forgiven and adored,
to be forgiven with the power of Love
no longer black balled...

According to the riches of His grace

The Fallen 
The Called

(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
"lux vitae"

for the ones with tears in their heart,
for the ones with tears in their eyes

"Surely, the Reader, is the writer of their own story and we are all kept in cages until our muse is let loose."



“The thing to do, it seems to me, is to prepare yourself so you can be a rainbow in somebody else's cloud. Somebody who may not look like you. May not call God the same name you call God - if they call God at all. I may not dance your dances or speak your language. But be a blessing to somebody. That's what I think.”


We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature -  trees, flowers, grass- grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence... We need silence to be able to touch souls.” 


You can't forgive without loving. And I don't mean sentimentality. I don't mean mush. I mean having enough courage to stand up and say, 'I forgive. I'm finished with it.”


“Your talent is God's gift to you. What you do with it is your gift back to God.”


“Sweet Mercy is nobility’s true badge” 




2 Corinthians 2:10 (NIV)
Romans 3:23 (NIV)
Mark 11:25 (NIV)
Proverbs 3:56 (NIV)
James 5:16 (NIV)
Revelation 1:1-20
2 Corinthians 5:17 (NIV)




"AMOR VINCIT OMNIA"












https://youtu.be/0LbP8oYcGYk
“I’m Right Behind You”/Michal Smorawinski

Ivan Torrent - Lux Imperia
https://youtu.be/k6ah7r2_hxs
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