Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: The Short End of the Stick (02/20/14)
TITLE: How Must It Be
By Kenn Allan
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Yet always stay unseen―
A mere observer, always there,
Denied to intervene?
A single plea o'er trembling lips
Would loose a knowing hand,
But silent brooding, nothing shared,
Brings naught to understand.
How must it feel to proffer gifts
Yet have them slapped aside―
Rejected by an anger spawned
O'er lesser things denied?
Intended treasures born of grace
With pleasures to impart
Are oft forgotten, shunned or lost
Within a bitter heart.
How must it ache to feel betrayed
By hearts that beat untrue―
To watch devotion realigned
To harlots found anew?
The carnal spirit wanders free
On journeys warped by lust
And seeks true love along the way
But only finds distrust.
How must it sound to hear the truth
Reviled when men converse
Or hear the name above all else
Diminished to a curse?
A darkness lurking in their soul
Retains no praise for light
And sacrifices, new and old,
Are foolish in their sight.
Have you ever searched your soul
And found a need for prayer,
Yet wondered how a mighty God
Can grasp one man's despair?
Before you offer up your pain
On pew or bended knee,
Imagine deep His tearstained eyes
And muse, "How must it be?"
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