There is truth. There is earth. There is ground upon which you stand and
air in which you will fly, soon enough, when your body decays
and they take your burning dust to cast.
There are atoms. There are cells in your chest. There are lines that aren’t lines in 3d space. There are pages upon pages of stories written, histories kept;
blurred lenses through which modernity looks. And you walk there,
fingers locked,
dropping through panes of glass
thousands praying
till you taste the blood you never knew was in yourself.
There is meaning in everything. There is language. There are temptations common to man, like awaking far too early and confusing yourself
with someone else
or forgetting that it is Tuesday, not Wednesday
and coming late to work.
There are judgments. There are judges who condemn men to death. There is
justice, a society norm regardless of choice,
that stands whether you breathe or not, and demands that
all men smile, shake its hand, and accept a final verdict.
There are people who were wrong, dead. There are people who
are dead but right.
Not everything is as you think you’d like.
And I submit, as an absolute
that if you stand, walk, breathe, and think on earth,
there is but one path of life
and that the Word is truth.
John 8:32, John 17:17, Psalm 1
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