Do you wish to know the mystery
of a godforsaken mind?
To wander through the crimson light
to see what you may find?
Amidst the walls of crumbling stone
and pages that are tattered;
amidst the long forgotten dreams
and sorrows that are scattered
– like so many old photos
strewn across the floor –
calling out, “Do you remember?
Do you still love me anymore?”
Time, marches on
the same relentless gait,
never ceasing still increasing,
and for no man will it wait.
But instead treads each
soul neatly underfoot;
this meager mortal grind of
ash and dirt and soot.
And dust, from which we came
and to which we must return.
This, life’s one long
lesson must we learn
by heart, till heart should
beat no more;
in a cold abandoned box
seven feet beneath the floor.
Death, above all else is
certain, sure, and soon.
Even now as life approaches
the fateful hand of noon.
Shall I thus begin to count the cost?
To undertake a reckoning of
all that has been lost
and left alone…
Where moth and rust destroy,
and where thieves break in and steal?
This monument of chaff which
God’s judgment must reveal
by fire, till I expire,
my life is gone and spent.
Alas too late to live to love
to turn and to repent.
Darkness fall upon my sight;
this never ceasing night
of sin and torment long invited.
My every selfish action now requited
by a Love vanquished
through malicious choice:
to scoff, to spurn, to slander
His softly calling voice.
In preference for the praise of men;
this endless dross and din
of fools pretending to be wise;
each man decides what is
right in his own eyes.
And so he dies…
a thousand little deaths,
and leaves his soul entirely bereft
of grace;
where it at last alone must face
the horrors of the Underworld.
The Devil’s malice now unfurled
and inflicted upon the mind of man;
the gnashing, weeping, shrieking,
vengeful voices of the damned,
cry out demanding mercy
which they cannot comprehend;
amidst the willful pride
which has brought them to this end.
And left them senseless
– deaf, dumb, mute, and blind –
behold the utter ruin
of a godforsaken mind.
In which there is
no mystery at all.
Save for the haunting echo
of that great primeval Fall
from grace to grief.
Dear God shall we then
ever find relief?
From this infernal yoke of
our own making,
these chords which bind
our going, coming, waking
from such a long and lethal slumber.
Let God arise! Let His Angel armies thunder!
To rouse us from the pall of Satan’s spell-
-bound no longer for the fires of Hell!
But instead that blessed land
which wakes the rising dawn.
By His blood, His crown of thorns
the deadly poison has been drawn
out! Now forever to be healed!
And soon, yes very soon
the Sons of God shall be revealed
in all of Heaven’s splendor;
where every knee shall bow
whether it be friend or
foe of God!
Before the Judgment Seat
where the lightning rod
of Christ shall thus divide them each
according to their kind:
Those bound for Heaven’s rest
and those at last consigned
to face the self-inflicted fate
of every godforsaken mind.
