The Sign Is The Idol

     Does one not see,

The cast of society?

Good

Has become so overshadowed,

By false goodness,

That strange human consciousness

Is accepted,

As the new good order,

As if God is the One,

Who has delivered,

Such fodder,

As enlightenment.

    His light that is meant

To reveal Him,

Is taken by humans,

For the design

Of human pigmentation,

And their self glorification.

    Deceptive, personal gaming

Sets to position comparison

In our relational environment,

It speaks silently,

Such passive, aggressive

Tones so dulcet,

     “I shall take your value,

And call it mine.

I will achieve this endeavor,

Right next door

To your very own,

Personal rhyme.”

     “I will speak 

As if I am a bird,

In the forest,

Miming,

Your ‘I am.'”

     “I will set you back

Right on your very own grass,

Of existence.”

     “You won’t have a chance.”

The cloud is a fox.  C. E. Eksuzian

The cloud is a fox.  2015

“I’m the fox in the sky,

Looking down over your eyes.

Fox speaks, hidden in the edge of the forest.

Fox speaks, hidden in the edge of the forest.  2015

I’m the edge species,

Hidden in earthly vegetation’s outline.”

     Identity design,

Has become tainted,

As it seeks

Its own life sign

Of self glorification,

At the expense

Of all that we are,

God given.

     These conditions

Have emerged

With such subtle,

Yet forceful, invitation.

     The Great Deceiver

Is in full emancipation.

     To be gamed adversely,

To see the run

Of the sign seeker’s trajectory,

Is an interesting position

To contemplate.

     What motivates players

To buy in to playing?

Money perhaps,

Bribes,

Gifts received by

Deception’s tithes,

Promotions,

Pats on the back

Of good ‘ol boy, or girl,

Seating,

In life stadiums heights.

     To sit in left field,

Not as a bystander,

A reject,

Or a persecutee,

But to take a place of watching,

The wheels of treachery,

Is the enlightening impact

Of realizing.

     Realizing our fate,

Or destiny,

Like John’s Revelation 17,

God’s Bowls

And the knowing

Of prayers that lead us

To His salvation,

To His Holy Highway,

To the gentle ease

Of walking with footsteps,

Ever so lightly,

Buoyantly,

Peacefully,

No matter the environment’s

Spears of strategy,

That seek to self glorify.

     No wonder 

It is told that,

The Great Furnace

Shall activate,

Signing the end of the age,

To cleanse away

Such separation from God.

©2015 C. E. Eksuzian, all rights reserved.

About Cindy Eksuzian

See my "about me" page.
Gallery | This entry was posted in Awakening, Choice and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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