Down a path where arteries will meet the scythe.
Deceased silhouettes suffocating in defeat.

A spark struggles to illuminate the way before the feet.
cloaked in disbelief, conversing with grief.

Climbing an empty ladder,
dreams clustered beyond reach.
With worn bones aiming to reach beyond the known peak.

With thread she wove for you to wear,
They glance at you repeated
Oh break this stale and stifled air,
With cheer and tidings greeted

A feast so lavish, a feast so grand,
With new allies awaiting
Brisk the smile and crisp the hand,
Extended for quick shaking

Drop your detest and hurl the vase,
Of defeating and mistreating
From this day on you now embrace,
The joyful forces meeting.

whose do you choose
be made real for you

You purport that you
are always right
with verbiage, loud
designed to confuse
fomenting exasperation
with this constant fight
and sisyphean failure
to change your views.

Barbed wire intrinsic thought
in the trenches forever caught
wearily wraps conscious care
in nomansland laying bare
bullet grazes flesh is torn
tear gas erupts heavens mourn
battle of malicious mind
bayonets cross the ghastly grind
ensnared in perpetual prison
doubtful fear rambunctiously risen

Antioch
The place where my great battle with faith was first named Christian.
Am I?
Aren't I?
A label I so desperately need to put my wandering mind at ease
I can say "Christian! That is what I am! This is what I believe"
But for me, faith is not that easy

Antioch
Where it became a club
You're in or you're out

Antioch
A joyous event for those there
Their truth recognsied
At last
For them, God's promises being fulfilled
The day that the small Jewish sub-sect became...
Christian.
The day one more barrier was erected on this insignificant man's long and arduous journey of faith

It's a journey that's not over
Not even close
Some days bounding, overjoyed, into the loving arms of God
Some days a single seed amongst the thorns

And in spite of all this
Whether I like it or not
I know That I am the lost sheep
And I know
That the shepherd is looking for me
And I know that with man this is impossible
And that with God all things are possible
And I know
That the Lord is calling me home
Whether I like it or not

The point of view
Is that it is pointed at you
of which your perspective is askewed
They will point to their point of view
demand that you start anew
Muddy the waters till it looks like a stew
murky and obtuse
gory and smelling of refuse
Lacking scenery the perfect image of destitute.
No refuge just excuse
one right after another
Soon all the words come together
Musty dusty and covered in leather
it all changes right before your eyes
now it looks right because your thruth started to die
now your whole life is just a big ole lie
That is the whole point of this
Your point of view
Is pointed at you
Now they are all the same
Your point of view is a point of view
It just isn't the same