Bring It On
Eckhart Tolle says, "Life will give you whatever experience is most helpful for the evolution of your consciousness."
...
To this, I say, bring it on
Throw everything at me, the night of your own right,
And as sure as there is light,
I will live, push, cry, and fight
If the words roll away into the winds of woe
When your eyes no longer burn in my vicious glow,
I will pull through without, within
Taking all the impact in
Lost will be my promised purpose,
In the deepest prisons cold,
Jeers of delinquent devils shout,
"Out with mercy!
Out with fight!
Out with all the hope of light!
Into the fray, vicious and gay,
Stab their souls in false array,
Cut their tongues of honeyed hope,
Crack their joyous jaws and mope,
Beat their battled courage raw,
Reduce them to tears-commit them to flaw!"
To this, I say, bring it on
Drag me to the prisons that quiver,
Into the hell that encompasses the strongest of mind
If treasures are fables, then grime I shall find
And I shall mold the muck into wings of luck
Descending the cliffs of the damned
I will light the wick in my world
With the flame of all determination unfurled!
In the cries of goodbyes I will lift mine eyes,
Across the seas of delusion,
Sing-song, supple voices cry,
"Welcome to dream,
Welcome to relief,
Welcome to mastered misery supreme!
Syrupy promises, in smiles we roam,
And make sugared falsehood our hanus home!
Take their wearied souls and breathe,
In the softest fumes of darkest retreat,
Drain their sorrows in the booze of blood,
Take their children and drown them in mud!"
To this, I say, bring it on!
Lure me into your seas of wrath,
Poisoned with liars promising heaven
If misery be my friend, let her lend a hand,
And lift those hopeless children from the sand
Riding the waves that were once dreams-now life,
I will let myself drown at the expense of their ascension!
You will not take our next generation!
I rise in the gorgeous eyes of your frenzied surprise,
I make love to the promise that even the weak survive
As certain as there is love,
I will always battle with the tiger eye and the charm of a dove
And the souls will remember the days of suffering,
Giving into drifting doubt:
"Remember our slaving curse tonight,
Our God brings death as sure as night,
Weakly we beg you to surrender, right or wrong...
We cannot sing along if we don't belong..."
Moan and groan, my flock, till the break of dawn
Still to this day, and always,
I will pray, bleeding, heaving and graized...
Bring it on...
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015
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