Author: John Knetemann

My pride systems, my demons, my chattering voices

The webs they spin and the “perfect” masks they craft

So that the true light cannot come out

The light that they didn’t understand

Oh, how wicked we are to ourselves!

Throwing ourselves into the darkness

And as my vision is darkened with my pride

I can no longer see You

I wonder in those moments if You still see me?

But in the end…

The eyes of the Devil and the eyes of God are one.

What a Devil God can be!

And what a God the Devil can be!

They need only to meet each other

And form that holy understanding

The Devil rips off his heavy mask!

God steps back out of the darkness

To find Himself waiting with open arms

Welcome back, Prodigal Son!

Build up my palaces and my achievement shelves.

Scoring goal after goal, and searching for more and more applause.

Inside my wall, filling all those empty spaces.

The world will congratulate me for how amazing I am.

But I won’t really be there will I?

I left myself behind a long, long time ago.

Bent on proving everyone and everything wrong.

And in my pursuits have I proved them wrong yet?

Or are the troubles surmounting further and further?

A tough truth may someday be faced.

No! No! This cannot be!

Icarus falls from the sky…

He may even curse the sky on his way down…

With a picked white rose and a striding pose,

Heading towards cliffs with unsuspecting shifts,

Making more mistakes that fill up wisdom lakes,

Learning a truth heading to a Fountain of Youth,

Forever falling head first into things that quench thirst,

For the wise know that the fools win the show.

This hair,

This youth,

This hand,

This body,

I can say goodbye to it.

But this flame?

This deep feeling?

This indescribable motion?

This being?

Must that really go out?

How can I say goodbye to that?

When it is the very thing saying goodbye.

Only to itself.

Someday.

A goodbye.