Curse of Belief
If belief were a curse
tied to mind and strapped to heart
carried by the innocent
would it care for consequence?
When the birds come to roost
in aviaries on high roof
the bill is due, the time expired
now they see how they conspired.
In between the spires of truth
bridge impossible between the heights
far below the golden streets
the valley is life's harshest lie.
Spawn of desire for the best
and hypocrisy of the reality
the depths breed deepest contempt
for the vanguards of opposing tents.
Struggle against the beliefs embraced
once a blessing now a web
of contrary dogmas in long rows
like the markers above the graves.
The protectors come with long knives
honed to quiet the dissenting voice
sharp from the unpleasant tasks
gleefully chosen as their life path.
The wheel turns to grind the meat
something must grease the gears.
They'll pick the weakness links
no longer part of their chain.
Don't lay down when beliefs betray
the one they swore to protect.
Walk the canyon of your making
with assurity a lifetime does create.
Belief is more than a curse
it is the beginning and not the end
for the innocent no longer pure
made holy in the crucible.
The sword does not dig the grave
the shield is not a burial stone
trust the path in the wilderness
when safety brings only ill.
© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160509.