The Cross And It's Shadow
In land of light, where spires rise high,
We speak of love yet let it die,
For quiet faith and tender creeds
Are strangled by our selfish needs.
We drape ourselves in robes of white,
Yet shadows thicken, day and night.
We name the Christ with hollow breath,
And wield His sword to bring forth death.
Some say it’s power that we seek,
To silence all the gentle, weak;
A whispered lie, a guiding hand,
To keep the meek from taking bread.
We cast our stones with righteous face,
While kindness slips to slow disgrace;
And as our temples line the skies,
Our children learn a world of lies.
Yet still the dreamers, bruised and worn,
Recall the world where love was born—
Where fire once lit the lowly way,
A light the darkness could not sway.
But if we seek to shape the world
With fires that burn and flags unfurled,
What lives we touch may never rise
To know a gentler paradise.
In every breath that bruises break,
Another spirit must then ache;
And one by one, we dim and fade
In shadows of our faith betrayed.
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