A Dainty Prelude

Blood alone turns the wheels of history. Philosophies and dogmas pile up next to each other as anything remotely gleaming of truth is has become like beating a dead horse. Rhetoric is all but inspiring as the anarchists, hedonists, proletariats, and the breathing preach the message that is as praiseworthy as the monkey on their backs. Cynicism is what eats away at all spoken in self justified unbiased doctrines that spew forth from what seems every medium, minus that of miming because we got the box thing years ago. Revolution is a word that is spread like a plague and with the face of Che on it with a hint of humanistic zest it has become more marketable than Beanie Babies with an even larger variety. With such ranting and almost seemingly hypocritical cynicism one may have begun to disregard the beginning quote. Spoken by reformers and dictators alike, it is the one vice that relegates true change.
Punk is dead, “Extreme” sports have lost the draw, as the only moving and news making changes are brought by violence. As bombs explode bringing families to the grave the ground cries out for retribution. Nothing is without consequence as the masses indulge in the destruction of human life and complain about the nine dollar ticket prices. Discontentment lies under the skin of the masses who lie under the yoke of depravity and those with light have lost what seems to be the actual reason of them having the light, if at all. As truth is being paraded and dumbed down into rancid compromise we have made bubble gum into a three course meal.
As many lie in bed and embrace isolation and meaning fear has gone from being an arch enemy to being an occasional one night stand. Death looms overhead as bloodlust isn’t being met by the nation’s cafeterias. Sure twelve year olds give themselves as offerings looking for dismissive approval but if you tell them no, they’ll run farther into brokenness. As commentators of the day rape truth of all meaning they lead hordes into assembly lines building altars of futility.
A wake of corpses our the foundation of our knowledge as good news is when there have only been two murders, a rape, and only one abducted child in the news. As discontentment rages on numb futility seizes the backbone of society.
There is one who sees the wickedness, which is mocked, has all he made bowing to the vapid and main all who seek truth. Joy and pleasures have gone out the window and nose candy and convenience pump depression into the starved masses.
Blood was shed and death was conquered, all evil was put to shame by the blood of one man. The Creator paid for something with His own flesh and blood and the earth cries for vindication. In this blood are truth, life, and freedom. The one who sculpted every heart will return and take hold of what is rightfully His. Holy rage will burn as the tenderhearted one avenges his children.
Left with no resolve, revolution seethes under the surface with tensions thrashing against the malevolent frigidity of pride’s shell. He beckons us to dine with him, to eat his flesh and drink his blood; he is the one and only meal. True love has nothing but this that one lay down their lives for their friends and enemies. Love calls forth out of the white noise and incessant babble. He binds up the brokenhearted and made every heart to be filled with pleasure joy and peace. Rebellion is inherent in mankind’s system growing a dependence on the toxic. In Christ there is beauty and peace. He is on the move and in him only is there security as the sword is being drawn from its sheath.