And The Band Played On

But mark this: There will be terrible times in the last days. People will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, proud, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, without love, unforgiving, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not lovers of the good, treacherous, rash, conceited, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God – having a form of godliness but denying its power. Have nothing to do with them.   II Timothy3:1-5

pain becomes the new laughter,

sorrow the flavor of the day,

hurtful words the drug

of choice,

lovers of self,

stone cold shells,

hearts of steel,

anything goes,

in make believe worlds,

where nothing is real,

sliding into depths

of decadence and decay;

and the band played on;

we soothe the fear,

while hiding the emptiness,

making way for a tomorrow

full of distant despair,

time passes by,

madness breeds the future,

breathing life

into strange new creations,

with no room for mercy

or compassion;

and the band played on;

we want reassurance,

we want good times,

we want vindication,

we want guarantees;

and the band played on;

inside the flesh rots,

like butter in the warm

summer sun,

continually searching,

continually seeking,

new horizons among the chaos,

feeding off the lust,

surviving on the greed,

drowning in the filth,

laying waste

to all that moves,

misunderstanding the new art,

and at the end of the day

emptiness all that is left;

sometimes survival

is recreation enough;

we live life in moments,

monuments frozen in time,

desperately holding on,

hopelessly watching,

slipping like smooth silk sand

through our porous fingertips;

we are flawed,

everyone of us,

it is not of our doing,

but we are flawed

just the same,

imperfections within the rubbish,

scarred bloody stumps,

of all that we could have been,

all that should have been,

fit for nothing

but the furnace fire,

without defense,

without hope,

pointing fingers and shaking our heads,

feeling somehow superior,

above the filth,

better than the ‘sinners’

but inside

we are all the same,

grubby little insects

seeking redemption,

crying out in pain,

without making a sound;

tear down the walls,

replace the darkness

with light,

let it shine into the cold

black night;

no matter how hard we try

we can never put it out;

something is lost

within this carnivorous cavern,

prosperity weakens

in the face of disaster,

with destruction

comes renewal,

with death

begins life;

won’t You help me

find the door?

won’t You show me

the truth?

won’t You rescue me

from the storm?

like a river it flows,

sometimes violent,

sometimes gentle,

on and on,

no beginning,

no end;

like a mighty wind it blows,

from here to there,

from where no one knows,

to where even less;

heroes and hormones never die,

they go on and on forever

in this wilderness where

the sun never sets,

inside these hallowed

halls of glory,

filled with words of hope,

the midday shadows grow long,

but the hunger remains the same,

despite twists and turns,

assuming new shapes,

twisting and turning,

resurfacing in different forms,

the morning grows tired of the noise,

still it goes on,

flowing like before,

blowing into the night,

still it goes on;

no one listens,

no one hears;

sleep well my friend,

the morning comes

soon enough,

the nighttime will fade

into the growing morning light;

and the band played on;

we hide inside our houses,

dreaming;

dreaming of the tomorrows,

imagining the possibilities,

running from the darkness,

mystified by the mystery,

trapped within the illusion,

waiting for the destination;

forever seeing,

but never knowing;

forever hearing,

but never understanding;

if it were up to me,

I would stay in this place,

seeking shelter from the storm,

being swallowed up by the myth,

drowning in the depths,

growing cold from the emptiness,

guarding Your truth

like a rare and precious jewel,

but Your grace knows better,

You lead me past the mistakes,

through the traps and snares,

beyond myself;

and somewhere the band

no longer plays;

someday the light

will come flooding through,

providing vindication

for even the weakest part,

shredding the illusions,

destroying the misconceptions;

speaking the truth.

.

.