In the Beginning
I began from high up, placed on a pedestal
Then set the bar high, I took it higher
A perfect role model, a prodigy
The doting son; the apple of their eye
I fit the part to a tee. I played the role
Every strand in place, groomed to perfection
Every step ordained, flawless and fixed
A piece of artwork, perfectly sculpted
Bowing in reverence, genuflecting in honour,
Kneeling on the pews, arms clasped in prayer.
Dressed in a white Alb, picture-perfect holiness
Hands drawn together in quiet grace
Cleansed with the Holy Water
Penance kept my daily quota
Partaking of the sacred table
Confirmed in the walk of faith
When the Rains Began to Beat
Then somewhere along the way
The pain outlasted the cleansing rain
The heart once tender, now hardened
The ache dulled, and the faith frayed
The harsh resignation set in
The soft and tender parts bruised
The questions obscured my certainty
I then slowly retreated into a hollow cave
Once adorned with the breastplate of righteousness
Wielding the sword of the Spirit, shielded with faith
Now absent from the frontlines, a ghost in the ranks
A man fallen from grace, a cautionary tale of shame
Now lying in the ruins of a tower once tall
Its destruction lay bare for all to behold
Is this the dying flame of a fire once burning?
Or is there hope of ever finding my way back?
