Media manslaughter of the sick and famous.
When opinion is considered more precious than conscience.
Imaginations that protect mankind's illusion from the reality of the true God's existence.
The attempt to scrub off God's fingerprint by equating our value to that of mere animals.
Super Models and Super Heroes. The worship of genetic anomalies.
Sweetly putrid longing for physical gratification.
Obeying the basest instincts on the basis that we're merely instinctual.
Trading our eternal inheritance for earthly satisfaction.
The world is selling mankind a bowl of stew in exchange for their life. People are so dissatisfied with every day that they feel starved. We cry out in hunger, wishing to be filled with all that's dangled in front of us. The smell of instant gratification comes wafting out. Humanity says, "I am about to die, what good is a spiritual inheritance to me now?" Don't eat the stew. But we do anyway.
Soundtracks swell and people's faces sell the emotions we should be feeling.
It's not discomfort at the devaluing of humanity you feel, it's comedy! Laugh it up!
It's only entertainment... until it takes up residence in your mind and you can't evict it.
In silence it multiplies like gremlins, especially when we attempt to sleep.
Alone, knowing we're not alone, but deceiving ourselves further into believing we're alone.
Until we can't escape the isolation. So we bow in surrender to it.
The fear becomes the god. Anything that distracts from that fear becomes love.
Distraction upon distraction, we don't know how we got here.
At some point we can't help ourselves. Somebody needs to pull us out... Help?
But nobody cares because they are too busy distracting themselves from the evil demigod of fear.
But a whimper, a muffled cry, even the tiniest croak of desperation is heard.
We can't help ourselves, we don't know the way.
The Way finds us.
He lifts our eyes to look into His and what we see...
is too much to bear.
He follows. His pace is steady and patient. Knowing.
As we run we think, what was that we saw or felt or heard?
It smelled like satisfaction but it tasted like the death of something. Of everything I've known.
We can't get the taste off our tongue.
It's like a hope that hurts.
He teaches us to breathe His breath.
He feeds us Himself and gives us the living water until we have the strength to stand.
His gentle ways are so unlike this pushy, manipulative con of a world.
We find out that we've taken all these humans way too seriously.
As if they had the answer to my hunger in their deceptive bowl of stew.
All I need now is His Bread and Water.