God's Voice You Ask For

The gun’s cocked back

What do you do

Do you pull the trigger and end this seemingly endless dream

Or do you float, calmly, down this spiralling, calm current

The world seems to wind down, and so you live awake through this contagious state

You put the gun down, picking up a knife

What do you do

Do you release yourself, from this shared pain that is undeniably felt

God whispers, but you cannot hear him through the breeze in the trees all around

And so this knife leaves you afraid

And so this knife, you just leave on the ground

You cannot look at it, for it has strength that cannot be ignored

You cannot look anywhere, but everywhere, except for where the blade lies

Do you live, or do you die

That is easy, a question you can answer… isn’t it

You’re still alive, and you’ve forgotten where you’ve rested the knife

God has taken the gun

You walk, not picking anything up now, free from the weight of choice

You are free, and rejoice

You are free, as the breeze is your voice

God’s voice you ask for, but you hear only your own

It is the one that tells you to go home

But you know what awaits for you there

You know, but are you prepared

This freedom is not fair, for it is only life you face, and so you’re reflection in the water is where you stare

And so your life is your chase, in this place in which you go back and forth, in circles that never end

You stand high above the trees, all around now

But still, God is not found

As the friends you have left behind

Are the gun that has been taken

And the knife you left somewhere

On the ground