[A poem about returning to the truth, the light, the way]

Rainbow veins visible beneath this flesh
All that is pure will never be found amongst this crowd
Worshipping rebellion they bow in this shrine of life
Pride butchered and sold for a high price
And even the poor can afford it
Like a blast of a canon ball they laugh aloud with mouth dripping Bombay
Little wonder the choices these lot make
Young, wild and under a curse
Troubled hearts beating in unison
To each his own, to each his own
Chasing their tails, with spoons digging their graves
This generation of weak minded insolent, money hungry junkies
How can we create another from this poison?
No morals, no faith, no hope in no God
Wandering the earth wielding guns and hatred
Disobedience, the little fox destroying the vine
Searching for the easy way out in this maze called life
They forget we are only travelers
On this journey to places known and “unknown”
Even a tourist knows to have a guide
But the 66 books to lead us through this vain path has gathered dust
Youth, renegade, if only you will return to your safe haven
If only the scales over your eyes like teardrops will fall down
If only your mind’s eye could be reborn and made to see how much love He has for you and me even now in this pit
The passion of the price He paid
With blood, sweat and death
If only we would run into arms open wide, to him
Faithful one, calling unto us with that still small voice of peace
Together we will find our Utopia.

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