Speaking out isn't easy.
Neither is speaking up.
Or speaking anywhere but within your head, where the space is safe.
But, I've had just enough of the shit of this society to crack my lips and bridge that gap.
So, as this decade comes to a close, here's something for you, America and Western civilization and "First World":
You've become sick, fallen ill, been diseased. Your skin is translucent and fatty and thin. Your head is swollen with too much blood and not enough flow. Your eyes are rimmed in red from staring into the sun.
You've got bad blood running in your veins, spoiling all your insides. Your brain is deteriorating - soon it will be entirely uninspirational, non-functional, decorational. You've got cancer of your soul, of your life, of your way. And it'll eat you up, leaving more fatty tissue in it's wake.
You know you're sick. You've been diagnosed and self-diagnosed because the disease was easy to spot. But you are hiding in the hospital wings claiming that this is the way to live. You are lurking in the darkest places claiming that you've got the solution. You are cowering in the recesses whispering how you've got yourself sorted out, huddled over bags of drugs and piles of trash and signs of old sex.
This disease could be so easy to stop, but you won't seek the treatment.
So, leaders of the world, heads of the west, seats of the setting sun, kings and queens of your own personal domains - I suppose you will rot.
And your decay, your refuse, your remains will cover this land until smoke rises from the ashes when the natural order comes back around and burns you all away.
One of these days, I trust, you will see the error. Even if you see it much too late.
And the sun and the truth will burn up your heart and your souls and your mind.
And there at the end of your reign, you will find your second death when no-one is left to recall the way it once had been, when all your brains will disappear into the desolation you have made.
I hope you will listen on your high and lofty thrones to the voices that are below you. I hope you will heed the warnings rising up from your own feet. I hope against the current, against the staggering strength you have made to pull the sun to yourself, that you will turn back, turn around, turn to what is right and good and true, once more.
I hope, but I do not wait expectedly.
Or speaking anywhere but within your head, where the space is safe.
But, I've had just enough of the shit of this society to crack my lips and bridge that gap.
So, as this decade comes to a close, here's something for you, America and Western civilization and "First World":
You've become sick, fallen ill, been diseased. Your skin is translucent and fatty and thin. Your head is swollen with too much blood and not enough flow. Your eyes are rimmed in red from staring into the sun.
You've got bad blood running in your veins, spoiling all your insides. Your brain is deteriorating - soon it will be entirely uninspirational, non-functional, decorational. You've got cancer of your soul, of your life, of your way. And it'll eat you up, leaving more fatty tissue in it's wake.
You know you're sick. You've been diagnosed and self-diagnosed because the disease was easy to spot. But you are hiding in the hospital wings claiming that this is the way to live. You are lurking in the darkest places claiming that you've got the solution. You are cowering in the recesses whispering how you've got yourself sorted out, huddled over bags of drugs and piles of trash and signs of old sex.
This disease could be so easy to stop, but you won't seek the treatment.
So, leaders of the world, heads of the west, seats of the setting sun, kings and queens of your own personal domains - I suppose you will rot.
And your decay, your refuse, your remains will cover this land until smoke rises from the ashes when the natural order comes back around and burns you all away.
One of these days, I trust, you will see the error. Even if you see it much too late.
And the sun and the truth will burn up your heart and your souls and your mind.
And there at the end of your reign, you will find your second death when no-one is left to recall the way it once had been, when all your brains will disappear into the desolation you have made.
I hope you will listen on your high and lofty thrones to the voices that are below you. I hope you will heed the warnings rising up from your own feet. I hope against the current, against the staggering strength you have made to pull the sun to yourself, that you will turn back, turn around, turn to what is right and good and true, once more.
I hope, but I do not wait expectedly.
2 Thought(s):
So says the LORD our God.
Amen.
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