Whatever you write I’m curious to read
I want to know what hides in your mind
Whenever you paint I can see you bleed
Your wounded paths I want to unwind…
. I’ve been thinking about you a lot
You capture attention – mine surely got caught
So, here’s my reaction to your heartfelt plea
The plea of a gnarled and exhausted tree
This detail won’t stroke your ego
It won’t make too many mentions,
but the road to hell is paved with details,
or is it ‘with good intentions’?
I know you mean well,
Still, one cannot ‘good-deed’
Their way out of hell…
In doing good we must leave no stone unturned
Yet, Grace is a Gift which cannot be earned…
This gift is not carved into tablets of stone
We cannot reach peace on our own…
Bread can be hardened, and yet
You can never turn stone into bread…
The truth’s independent of one’s belief
If you bite into stone, you will break your teeth
Some say truths are many, but how many are there?
And how can those ‘truths’ contradict one another?
There is only One… for the old and the youth
“What makes me think that I’ve met the Truth?”
I am Free Finally – I take that as a proof
There is mercy and grace for those who repent
Even to the gnarled trees that are twisted and bent.