arduos treking uphill, an uproar of sand, rock;
a land that's ready to kill
those of faint heart, those of trembling feet
whose collection of fettered good intentions are nothing
more than hipocritical, self induced misconceptions.
a cry of sorrow and pain that's been etched on rock;
a pillar contrasting emotions and broken devotions dispersing the flock.
high tide, red moon, ragged skies:
the infernal scenario of self centered human cries.
now I've got sword in hand ready to battle,
but i'm evading the truth,
as i've dewlt among serpent and rattle.
self conscious of all contradiction, evading directions
& the road turns to inner depictions of soul tearing
degradation demanding blood and flesh to a death invitation.
walking on bare feet over tormenting stones
over vast lands of broken memories sharp enough to shred the skin & cut through the bone;
opening wounds that go straight to the heart.
healing is rendered impossible;
veins running dry
on empty promises made to sound plausible
but cut to pieces by the sharp edge of a lie
torn to pieces too many times, body parts spread,
then sewn back together by the same spent thread.
now the skin breaks apart at the junctions & the wound
never really mends;
i'm stabbed again by my own piercing needle, handed over
to treacherous hands.
this is the road I chose, one to face daily.
a path so narrow you could fall off the edge with one false step
but i keep on the stretch, never meaning to stop.
head high, head low;
through the wind of the eagle's wing
or under the shadow of the storm crow.
and though palms and knees fall apart thread by thread
to a mash of raw meat and nerves,
still it comes short of what this spiritually-impared body deserves.
follow me on through to the days where every land, nation
and king of men shook.
the path of unbroken echoes that Christ took.

-J JoN