I know the feeling of uneasiness for the first
time; for the world has arrived at our door,
the fortress is no more; I am growing up as
I know each day is now where fear comes to
feed upon our lives; and yet it is still a prayer
that is the thin line between a long life and
one that is the horror of tomorrows news;
it’s them, always them, people who aren’t
real; but they are; they are as real as my own
thoughts and dreams; but I do not know where
the thoughts behind my eyes live or where
they go when I am asleep

For those walking to the far corners of freedom,
where the shadow begins as the sun falls upon
our lives and so too the rainbow when the rain
finally yields to mercy upon those washed upon
the shores of injustice, dreaming their souls may
one day know peace, the strain upon the inelastic
thread of an pretended peace is applied so that
all who believe in its fabric may know how easily
it will unravel with the slightest tug as it was laid
beneath our feet so long ago with forgotten
intentions but now buried under the dust of
unrelenting indifference

Is the outrage of our life over death or respect;
is life so cheap that words and icons are favored
over what happens on our streets; can a man be
so numb that he believes those who perish must
somehow deserve the fate that came to know
them so intimately; the fatalistic view of life is
that God’s will explains everything, yet is it so
simple that evil triumphs over good at the hand
of the moment God looked away or does he
passively observe to see if we choose to beg for
his mercy or curse his name?

Our swords have been drawn; heaven has struck
once again, dividing brother against brother while
the secular army marches forward, likewise as
unmindful to love as they are determined to
****** their gilded steely ideals home in the name
of the mother who bore them as the blood
splatters upon a poor woman begging for food
while her child feeds upon hopeless *******;
neither of whom cares to provide milk for the God
who allows good and evil or those who built the
bridge between two nations casting blame upon
each other

Is there no common purpose no matter our
conviction of creation; must a declaration of
belief in the God of Abraham followed by a
declaration that he rose from the dead or
rose while alive or did not rise at all or is it
that a declaration that no supposed God is
necessary to reign supreme over men trying
to live their lives without dying while silence
continues to disintegrate the love all men
carry for anyone other than their children;
is this the choice, God or no God; this God
or that; this messiah or that; this word or
that; but love is neither this or that, rather it
is that which is this which is that I feel when
I see my love tell me that I am neither this or
that but instead that I am that I am