A twisted path does lie ahead,
Where peril longs to have its way.
The choices made have surely led,
The way to this unhappy day.
A course one would not likely tread,
If foresight’s reason played a role;
This path was woven by the dead,
And leaves a stain upon the soul.
A call upon the heart to stay:
The flesh and spirit have it out.
Is it too late to turn away?
Is there still time to mind the doubt?
The acrid bitterness reveals,
That emptiness will never yield.
The fear and pain are far too real,
And truth is just a sword to wield.
Despair is an unruly force;
Its arctic touch a searing pain.
Regret will serve to set a course,
Through blazing fire or pouring rain.
A desperate heart beats too fast;
A pulse does race beneath bare skin,
Reminding of a sordid past,
That’s marked with unforgiving sin.
These steps have brought upon the soul,
The chains that squeeze all breath from life.
A heart that hoped to be so full,
Now only dreams of the sharp knife.
“Come now, let us reason together,” says the LORD. “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool. – Isaiah 1:18
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