Humanity is a precious thing,
Bound by instinct true;
Also present is so much more,
Leading to something high,
Or the low road leading to chaos,
Destruction sought like a man in delirium.
The man who makes love,
Can also rape,
The arms that cradle a child in tenderness,
Also can turn to abuse,
Love can turn to hate,
Nurture at times lead to murder,
Such is our walk,
The struggle we face
The war between good and evil, within.
The saint fails more than one would think,
The knowledge of what is within a burden,
Heavy to bear the knowledge of ignorance,
Or perhaps it is sin.
The greatest saint,
Or one buried in sin, and ignorance,
In reality are not so far apart,
This knowledge perhaps the key,
In ones ability to understand and love.
Enfolding this struggle,
Its failures and victories,
Hidden deep within the human heart,
Seeing the struggle from inside
In the depths unfathomable,
Where seeds hidden germinate,
Sapping the soul of its strength.
None are worthy of mercy,
It flows as a gift
Offered to those most in need,
Beating in silence upon the walls of each heart,
Seeking only healing,
An end to the wandering in deserts,
Driven by what is within.
We are brothers and sisters in our struggle
So judgment in its most common form,
Based on ignorance of what lies underneath,
Hidden from many,
Waiting its time,
When its dark presence awakens from it slumber,
Overturning the false images
Of a fragile ego.