Could it be that blatantly simple?
Choices innately labeled black and white,
Without the drama and interpretation,
Relative judgment of what is right.
I like to think that truth pours through,
That it is unchanged by circumstance.
It does not evolve or take random shape,
Not left up to luck or chance.
Rather it is constant,
On tap in naked form,
Complete with timeless substance,
Blind to the uninformed.
Who create a clever, muddled view,
Of fact and fantasy,
Mixing the clarity of the absolute,
Into their cocktail of personal need.
So they drink until intoxicated,
Living a liquid lie of sorts,
Taking the shape of excuse and blame,
An “on the rocks” life fallen short.
They stagger up to the counter,
Longing for the smooth taste of top shelf,
Expecting things to be different,
Without being honest with themselves.
Still convinced that they have it right,
Ignoring the impervious proof,
Offered by the One who is named,
The Way, the Life and the Truth.
So what would it take to sober-up,
To drink only from His cup,
Stop the vicious round of lies they serve,
Taking His intoxicating Word straight up?
If they go to the bars that form the cross,
To lay down the lies and deceit,
Find out that the tab has already been paid,
And it’s time to live their lives neat.
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