Behind The Eyes

"No one bites back as hard on their anger, none of my pain and woe can show through." The Who

All the world's a stage and we are merely players. Shakespeare seemed confident that fate would have its way with us. There are moments in men's lives when the only recourse is not an option. Except for a few of course. They bear labels; selfish, hopeless and senseless. The heat of the desert can leave one delirious. In the wilderness God provided for his children, manna by day and quail by night. Yet according to the gospels he left his son to suffer without nourishment in that dry and weary land. There were no locust or wild honey. Jesus' cousin seemed to fare much better in the desert as if he was born to it. Perhaps Jesus was a suburbanite, playing with his dad's tools in the garage but never venturing into the larger world beyond him (now that sounds like heresy, remind me and I will explain it some time). That is until his temptations. I wonder what was worse, those 40 days of purpose (pun intended) or those satanic isolations? It was Tertullian who said, "the whole revolving wheel of existance bears witness to the resurrection of the dead."

The words haunted the old cowboy...
See the lines upon his face,
Notice the faded, torn fabric of his jeans
Boots with run down heels.
But he believed the words written in red.

The west was almost won,
or so they'd said.
Thinking on these things;
the cowboy'd say:
How can wicked men tame an untamed land?
Has the wilderness just become a place of decadence?
But he believed the words written in red.

Old trails begin to haunt him,
He ponders his calloused hands
Knowing the fence line fading into the distance
would never be fully mended.
But he believed the words written in red.

Dusk is falling.
He pauses to check his back trail
All he sees is history, wondering
Is what's beyond the next bend
More daunting than previous winters?
But he believed the words written in red.

They say, "Fall is coming early."
The words still ring in his head,
Musing then why does it feel like winter?
And then the darkness closes in.
But he believed the words written in red.

It looms out of the darkness,
Etched upon the horizon.
Thank God there's a light on.
And so he dreams...
About the land, the tree and its fruit
That is not forbidden.
Because he beileved the words written in red.

Sola Gracia, WHB