Beggars

Enslaved to the dirt

From the moment of birth.

Do we only live to die

And unite with the earth?

A spec on the canvas.

A fraction of infinity.

What’s the point to all this

When it ends so quickly?

We wander this world,

With a hole in our chest.

Can we pack this infinite void

With the things we love best?

Once we think we’re more full than others

We pride ourselves to help the ill fed.

But aren’t we just beggars

Telling beggars where to find bread?

When the things of this world have sliped away

It’s apparent how much deeper a hole we made.

We may have helped others along the way,

But we’ve all fallen further from the truth we crave.

In a life so miniscule

Where possessions are king,

Is there any hope

In finding eternity?

In our endless search for things that remain

We’ve found our property only disintegrates.

How can we find what truly sustains

When all reality has been reduced to a game?

But In this circus of beggars

The Truth did descend.

Perfect love made flesh

To take upon all our sin.

As the living bread he appeared to us

A hope that outlasts this ball of dust.

How can we know this Jesus

When he’s less tangible than our stuff?

Little did we know

When we just open our eyes

We see pieces of him

All throughout our lives.

But in the end the choice is ours

To take the living bread or bread that devours.

Will we beggars accept the promise

That our Lord has been crucified to give us?

Even if you choose the former

Your life doesn’t become a jovial story.

There’s a raging battle for your heart

A never ending storm of temptation to fight.

In the times we think we’re alone

His victory is already set in stone.

Will we decide to wake from this fantasy

Or let the sacred raisen cake divide our morality?

We are all beggars

Looking for bread.

Will we find it above

Or within ourselves?