At the end of heaven's rope is the pit that waits for all,
one step from the edge of hope with the picks that angels fear.
Freedom is the jealous mistress, vain in its many choices.
Some for right, some for wrong, all for what's best just for one.
Discipline is the heavy burden grasped by those in control.
Tough love flows from them, though the chattel may retort.
Opportunity is not divine, the right to hurt is devil's work
when privilege serves the only path to seeing right and wrong.
Why does latitude cruelly end where another dogma does begin?
Faith is free for all people, so is living outside of creed.
Deliverance holds a hollow note when underpinnings are misused
to deny others their fair share of divine's gifts meant for all.
War is brother to the peace that comes after one is supreme.
Conflict is freedom's gift when hope meets fear in sharp relief.
One held supreme, hard defended, becomes the blood bath for those too weakened.
Emancipation from drudgery comes in ways most diverse.
Some welcome work for wage, others revel in constant play.
One or the other is embraced when days must pass in some way.
Judgement bends the biased eye only informed by their pastime’s lie.
To dream is the greatest crime, source of all that could become.
One man's hope to persevere is another's cold nightmare.
The gifts released by each are disunion's most bitter fruit.
Too much to taste all at once, poisoned by the dreams that hope.
Love and hate are sides to a coin shared by all.
Freedom asks for each to be other for the enemy.
Kiss to lips ask gender’s bless, this some think should be the way.
Kiss to lips is a choice best made by those on the ends, wanting each.
Here at the end of heaven’s rope, the pit looms wide for those who choose
their freedoms picked for themselves while humanity strives for the same.
Love is hate, hate is love. Chains are guards, guards are chains.
Consider this while on the edge, what price does freedom truly charge?
© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160226.