A Ribbon of Sorrow

The spiritual realizations of a soul as they question the issue of modern "religion" VS. "Spirituality.

 

 

 

You held my hand and cried

Cold tears of precious stone,

And from their crystal forged

A satin ribbon out of sorrow.

 

Sunsets fade to gray,

The stars begin to wan,

Heaven grows quite dull

With skies the color of rain.

 

Amidst this shadowed realm

Of rotten, putrid, infamy

You find yourself most comfortably

At home among the irony.

 

Only such an artisan

Of your unwavering skill

Could produce a paragon

Of the unsightly,

 Gruesome and ill.

 

White lightning strikes the peak

Of hope and illuminates the land,

Exposing all our mortal flaws

Created by your hand.

You wonder why

We don’t pray.

 

The bleak dimness of the soul

Gives way to stark existence.

Trepidation eats through courage

Like succulent acid, we scream

Where are you now?

Why don’t you come?

 

You held my heart as I cried

Cold tears of precious stone.

“ My God, I know you’ve lied!

Here I am! I’m all alone!”

 

Lost within the hell

Oblivion has made on earth!

 

These tears, they keep on coming,

I cannot make them dry!

Where’s my silver lining

To enlighten my murky skies?

 

You held me close as we cried,

Cold tears of precious stone.

It took me years to realize

That we were never alone.

Lessons taught

Through pain.

 

Before the gates of pearly light,

I stand, my eyes and heart in Heaven,

My feet firm on solid land.

Now I can say, I understand…

This was test of faith…

This is a test of faith!

 

All your churches now have

Crumbled into holy dust.

The golden statues are tarnished,

Turned black with time and rust.

Where do we kneel?

Where do we pray?

 

All the saints are gone,

Their names engraved upon paper

And reduced to nothing more than

Faint memories of former glory.

 

Lotus petals unfurl to reveal

Deities cloaked in celestial pride,

Each a reflection of you,

Lord, I pray upon lacerated knees

These prayers are broken,

Will you still take them? Please!

 

I cry cold tears of precious stone,

And from their crystal I will forge

A satin ribbon out of sorrow

And this I give to you, God.

 

A symbol of my suffering

Wrought with newfound hope.

 

Purgatory’s silence slowly lifts,

I look upon this hell of grays

The shadows seem diminished,

As dawn spreads forth its amber rays.