Free to be

 

Tic tac toe, cross me from below, so I can prove my religion,

these days and times run with the ryhmes of the hurting, confused and broken,

running here and there, to office max, sharper image, to fill our hurting hearts,

there’s talk of a storm, like large waves that crash on castles built of silt and sand,

like graven images embedded with copper, gold and silver to make a better man,

we are all worshippers , and with sundry hearts we bow down to our fake falsetto voiced idols,

to fulfill a need for fake striving piety,

or a large dose of heathen rites and ritual,

what I need and who owes me what fill’s the head of an unsuspecting public,

the rush of traffic on  an noonday, the hurriedly bought coffee to wake a day for the making,

to do well, and how just how is life measured? By deeds, by thoughts or by actions?

It seems absurd the rushing around we do, driving round corners, walking up buisness stairs,

making deals, selling buisness, making profits? Whats the point? Just to fill a days time?

the clouds of storm line on the horizon’s face, begging the question to ask, ready to see rain fall,

and banks fail, and humanity become humbled? For I know that it is not money, It is not indulgence,

it is not bliss or heartache that will stop me, For I am free to be, free to be in the one who knows me best,

free to live regardless of whatever this world bears, free to know I am his, and that when the lightining and storms come

I will be still on his rock and ground, still and yes and will be found.