Strife be my Peace

I gave you these things for the good of your
Soul; to nourish your heart, and to make you whole.

I sought you, even in the dark of your

Pain; yet you sought not my face when I called

Your name. And so I turned my face,

I went my own way without you behind

Me, because you paid no attention; blind

Have you become in your wallowing death,

Unable to breathe, you have a labored

Breath that speaks to you of your burdens so

Procured for you by your sin. Hear you its

Taunting voice? Feel you its callous hands? Fits

Of rage and anger in choice manifest

Themselves, and do of you demand actions

Twofold, another choice so to speak, test

You and break you down! Sure weakness

Is a dreaded state that causes you much

Pain and suffering, for sure; but to touch

Upon such matters with more pain and such

Suffering that you cannot escape, this

Does not elevate you O foolish ape!

Rather you deepen the gauge upon your

Soul by a scythe, reap what you have sown more

Often in the flesh. Thus your spirit faints,

Your mind voices often its many complaints,

And death draws closer to you day by day.

Turn back and plead that you may be saved! Saints

Have procured such mercy from me as this

Which you now desire and need for such bliss

As you seek to obtain in these worldly

Things of power, money, and diamond rings!

What are these things to you who know life?

Why do you invite perpetuate strife?

              Strife be my Peace, (c) Luke Bennette, February 2013