And the lion isn't daunted by my candor.
My flickering words of doubt hinder him not. His roar stills my bent tongue, His tears bear my aching thoughts, Bear all onto the table - My wrong self ransomed by his blood. And the lion isn't daunted by my folly. My glistering scales of grime hinder him not. His paw clears my blind eyes, His claws tear my dying skin, Tear deep into the tissue - My dead self stripped from my bones. And the lion isn't daunted by my weakness. My quivering hands of dust hinder him not. His breath heats my cold blood, His eyes pierce my fragile heart, Pierce through into the struggle - My new self wakened by his soul. It's all black and white and grey
Staccato Buzzing, twitching, intruding, Like a bug zinging into your ear, deliberate. Who's the king of the mountain? Whose screams unsettle the furthest realm? Advocating for justice for power for truth, It's all black and white and grey Muddled Well-intended misconceptions ripe with tension simmer and explode. Rubber popper toys, the lot of us. Who will hear the steady hum? Who will heed the hymn so unadorned? It's all black and white and grey Then the socket sparks, We've got full color - It's not easier now, not always more clear, But we've heard the hum Caught a glimpse of deeper reality O wonder The melee continues, taunting, daunting The hum remains, unchanging, inviting The purest notes Timeless melody Who dares listen? Who dares sing? O sing and dance you hearers! Sing and dance and mourn. The hymn remains, unchanging, inviting Amidst the strife, amidst the storms. |
AuthorI write to process. I write to explore. I write with the hope of sharing truth greater than my own. Archives
February 2022
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