Alas, for the earth is broken,
And the world is bent out of shape,
The mighty eats grass,
And the weaklings go hungry.
The young men sit in defeat,
And the women dance in shame,
For what the elders gravely feared,
Was now fulfilled upon all flesh.
Who is he with the understanding of himself,
Or with an indepth knowledge of his power,
For when a prince fails to recognize his place,
Even the bravest of gods can’t help his generations.
Alas, for we are done and gone,
We have lost our path and wandered in the dark,
Our birthright have we traded with our sanity,
And our identity for a rousing ovation.
But I hear the almighty say,
And heard his voice thundered in the clouds,
Woe to the sons of earth,
And woe to the daughters to of the nations.
For I have said, ye are gods,
And have made you kings in your lands,
But without understanding have you lived,
Surely, like mere men will you fall before the crowd.
Even the gods cried,
And Immortals laid weak,
The Sun turned its face away in agony,
As the heavens gave way for pain.
Life laid dead in its sleep,
As hope sat ashamed in the dark,
Peace was stolen, redemption was kidnapped,
As all flesh withered before a scorching judgement.
Who is he to think he could walk free,
Or to say she was never here,
For not until grace and love walked in,
Even the very gods were never free.
Guilt was accounted to every life,
The puff of each breathe was laced with a double dose of treason,
For even the souls of gods and mortals had committed The Offence,
And death, only, was the price befitting, nothing else.
But a gift was given,
Though unrequested by any, yet desired by many,
For while life sat in a catacomb of confusion and despair at the far corner in the dark,
The gift bore the name of mercy and grace.
And with its light, life received life,
And bones glee at its sight,
For while gods and men rejoiced in its presence,
A life was shed in their stead.
Can anyone be perfect?
Let me guess, automatically, your answer is an emphatic NO!!! How dare we say we are perfect, or have the idea that we can be perfect in this world where there are so many reasons and ways to prove that every man is still subjected to his own share of demons and weaknesses? Who are we to place ourselves or dream of comparing our broken image with the status of a God-like personality who is not subjected to our enormous inabilities and glorious shortcomings? Or have we forgotten so soon that we, all of the time, are enslaved by our own passions and desires, that even when we see can clearly recognize that these desires are not as pure as our intents, we labor so dearly to see that we get what we want? How then can we talk about perfection or even dream of the idea of it when we are plighted with these inadequacies?
See Part 1 here
Now if you are reading this at this point, then it is most certain that you are one of three categories. Perhaps you are among those who I have really succeeded in stirring up their curiosity and appetite for the understanding of this problem and to figure out the solution, or perhaps you are among those who have no conviction of what I have been writing, and you are only reading this just to see where it ends. And yes, the third category are those who are neither here nor there, only reading for the fun of it; but then, I must make known one startling truth; the answer, as we should see here, may never truly satisfy our raging curiosity and the answer we get here may never come close to what we hoped for, but surely, it will stand with time.
It’s no telling secret that the dawn of each new day brings with it a bearable burden that stirs up a familiar concern within us as a constant reminder, and in the similitude of a nagging lady, begging us to conjure an answer to the challenge, how can I change the world today? Or more importantly, how can I affect someone’s life today? Well, except you are not thinking or musing over this, then I must be very candid to point out that your problem is quite bigger than what we are delicately trying to uncover here, because the purpose of every life is to affect another, and if for any reason we find ourselves failing to achieve this, then we probably don’t deserve to live.
Perhaps our biggest mistake is that we try so hard to find ourselves in a world where it is very easy to get lost in, perhaps, we try so hard to figure out who we are and what we were created to be. Perhaps, our biggest mistake is that we expend so much energy and so much time just to discover where we fit in, so much energy to realize where our place in this world lies, and so much time wasting in doing a lot of adjusting and accommodating, sieving through deep layers of personalities and shades of our lives, hoping to present that near perfect aspect of ourselves to the world.
Perhaps, our biggest mistake, no, problem is ourselves.
“Tell me, what defines a man”?
Struck like lightning to a key at the base of a kite darting through the wind, the question came at me with such daunting presence, totally eclipsing my thoughts as I sought for, an entire hour, an answer to this puzzling question. In all honesty, I was the one who had initially troubled my mind with such a question, still, I found that providing an answer was almost big a responsibility to bear alone for an hour but then, I needed an answer.
The night was cold and silent, and if it weren’t for the faint sounds I made as I breathed, one would forgiven to think we were camping among the dead.
Just when I thought nothing worthy to be termed an answer would visit, the first one knocked on the door of my mind.