From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed
him. “You do not want to leave too, do you?” Jesus asked the Twelve. Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom
shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and to
know that you are the Holy One of God.” Then Jesus replied, “Have I not chosen you, the Twelve? Yet one of you is a
devil!” (He meant Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot, who,
though one of the Twelve, was later to betray him.) John 6:66-71
And
Saul, yet breathing out threatenings and slaughter against the disciples of the
Lord, went unto the high priest, And desired of him letters to Damascus to the
synagogues, that if he found any of this way, whether they were men or women,
he might bring them bound unto Jerusalem. And as he journeyed, he came near
Damascus: and suddenly there shined round about him a light from heaven: And he
fell to the earth, and heard a voice saying unto him, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me? And
he said, Who art thou, Lord? And the Lord said, I am Jesus whom thou persecutest: it is hard for thee to kick against the pricks. And he trembling and astonished said, Lord, what wilt thou have me to
do? And the Lord said unto him,
Arise, and go into the city, and it shall be
told thee what thou must do. And the men which journeyed with
him stood speechless, hearing a voice, but seeing no man. And Saul arose from
the earth; and when his eyes were opened, he saw no man: but they led him by
the hand, and brought him into
Damascus. And he was three days without sight, and neither did eat nor drink. Acts 9:1-9
we all need a little calamity now
and then,
something to make it sweet,
a bit of drama upon which to hold,
an excuse for everything we are not,
nor never shall be;
all that can be said
about everything there is to say;
this thought,
together with these words
mean nothing,
in a world full of nothing,
dead corpses strewn about
shallow roadside graves,
wandering alone
through dark and dead dreams,
mindless zombies lying
broken and afraid,
breathing foul, empty air;
no future,
no joy,
no hope;
there are daughters
in need of a father,
wives in search of a husband,
sisters seeking long lost brothers,
grandchildren asking for a grandfather;
there are answers with no
questions,
mysteries without a clue;
you
are better off
never knowing who I
am,
never knowing what I
was,
never knowing where I
am going,
you are better off not
knowing;
still I hold on,
still I silently wait here on the edge,
buried within the dead,
standing on the verge of
mighty, giant breakthroughs,
hiding behind the drama,
only a blink of an eye away;
will not the dawn
bring a better tomorrow?
Once again You open my eyes,
once again I see the suffering,
the hypocrisy,
the poverty,
the hopelessness,
once again I feel the sadness,
the mercy,
the compassion,
and once again
I rise;
these are not words,
this is not art,
this is not life,
this is not death;
this is all there is;
it is hard to run,
when you can never be sure
what you are running from,
hard to hide when there
is nothing worth hiding from,
every time you win,
you lose,
whenever you think
it is enough,
it rarely ever is,
hidden away,
inside dark, unknown caverns,
answers are left
standing,
monsters with minds
of their own;
it is hard to run from dreams,
they know who you are,
they see where you have been,
they know just where you will be;
never ending,
never alone,
never enough.
.
.
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