Drawn Lines
Lines are drawn. fists are clenched. Behind word-armor,
they stay entrenched.
Spit flies hot from either side,
Where grace and virtue no longer abide.
Signs hoisted higher still,
suchlike words spewing from mouth
Tongues like serpents,
like from the bible throughout.
With thunderous noise, no one hears;
Cries from the vile mistaken as cheers.
Tisn’t the words from their tongue that they choke.
But heavy taste of pepper, within the smoke.
Rocks depict the sky. Swarm like locusts.
Some declaring their mark, like words to poets.
Chaos and malice placed above devotion.
Running through their minds, is the serpents potion.
Skies crack open. Brilliance rendering them blind.
Panic sets in. The left and right entwined.
Then a sound; Not a sound, a choice.
In the silent and still thunders a voice.
“Narrow is the gate that most will not find”
“Honor your Father. Love all mankind.”
“Deflate your chest and lay down your gun”
“So saith the lamb. So saith the Son.”
And they, with open ears bow their heads.
They surrender their lines and head for their beds.
They bend the knee and ask forgiveness
Internal conviction, divinity, they’ve become witnessed.
Those who remain, their choice made clear
The word is there to those, who choose to hear.
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