The Mind

How close we are to gaining power

Yet so far from the knowledge to contain it.

The mind is a subtle seed of light

Yet wraps its intentions around a negative force.

Lord, You created an object so progressive

To understand and testify to the truth

But sadly we are a defected race

In whom constantly defiles the art of instinct.

Be careful, God’s children, in study of the mind.

For not many can understand its intent to harm.

For a defiled flesh once free from all sin

Is led by a flawed and disgraceful system.

At once we find the mind controlled

And suddenly it lashes on 12 of its own.

A mind so sure to relieve the broken

A mind to calm the terror of others.

At once we fail to see its glitch

Where Satan has rewired what’s meant to be good.

For a plan so finite a plan in spite

Of the One who created a mind for a good.

Lord cleanse me for my mind is impure.

Don’t let my curiosity get the best of me.

For the more our mind understands this world

The closer we get to self-destruction.

Satan “If only you could see like Me you’d see,

you haven’t won anything…”

Burdens

Sweep to the left sweep to the right,

A servant makes his midnight duties.

A daily routine he makes his chores,

Finishing late into the night.

A castle he holds fit for a queen,

And deep in the chambers she permits him to reside.

His duties collateral for the cost of his stay,

A financial bargain paid for her attention.

During this quiet and dark hour,

She sneaks to the cell the servant calls home,

And tells her stories of shame and sin

Far into the evening.

Daily the queen makes her stops,

To ease the pressure that lay her chest.

Relieved she feels when she ends the night,

Not knowing the decision her servant has made.

A heavy burden his master bestows

During the days of toil and strife.

Upon a servant willing to bear,

The shame she felt long ago.

Upon his back he carries each sin

Walking through a forest called “life”.

If only the queen knew of his love,

Her loyalty would be to his heart.

Time.

I think one of the hardest things in life is to overcome weakness and pain. It’s like climbing a mountain with no legs, or your legs are severely damaged or something of that nature. Most of the time when pain accompanies us in times of trials when we’re supposed to overcome something, it seems to flash in and out of the situation. A great moment might cover up some of that STING but then just the mere thought of the pain drops all enthusiasm to a depressed hopelessness. I am convinced the only thing that heals it is T I M E.

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A Soldier’s Thorn

Written By James Schlueter

From the base of rock bottom,
To the heights up above,
One man to acquire,
A warrior’s status.
For what he’ll become,
Not many of such man
Ever shall seek,
To fulfill such a task.
He’ll sweat and he’ll bleed,
And pain he will find,
Felt in every step
Towards his triumph.
None can compare
To the honor thats bestowed
Upon such a soldier,
This soldier of hope.
And as he is grasping
This concept of glory
Not one fate exists
For this “immortal” man.
Yet just one finds it’s way
To the pit of his soul
The shun of his lover
The shun of a girl.
Bullets shall fly
And pierce his skin
But deadly is she
That abandons his heart.
Bombs will blow
And people will perish
But nothing compares
To the shame she gives.
Never will we see
A soldier so low
Than when all is lost
From the love of his life