I think it is all beyond me now

That truth be told in death somehow

The facts that I could not avow

In the living of the simple life.

The flesh would have its power.

The world would have me cower.

The devil would all things sour,

The product too mired in strife.

What wonder is there when the darkness is bared

To the present we dare look upon?

Without seeing the Light through the Cross hairs,

Those bloodied by the suffering of the Christ

That magnify more what is helpless and poor

Than what is rosy and pleasant and nice.

Oh my, what a long weary journey

To acknowledge what everyone denies

That God is the dispenser of all that is good

And everything else lives and dies.

2012.04.19.0900 ©