we the broken walk slowly through life's forgotten paths
those same narrow paths engulfed on both sides by menacing mountains from which the enemy attacks
this is our struggle
it is a battle against monsters and schemers
who aim to destroy shakers and dreamers
rank and file of created believers
who strap up with words as weapons and books as blades
that we might one day become strong enough to take down demons in our sleep
to the sweet-suckle lullabies sang to us by our mothers in the naive bliss of childhood
when believing was as easy as not seeing and trusting was as easy as hearing
they who are protected by divine proclamation that any fiend who even dreams
of harming the hairs on their heads
will be sent underwater with a rock around their neck
love is ruthless
but also willing to wait.
It waits for those who are too weak to carry themselves
who look for help in the books upon the shelves
Do they not see?
Have they not heard?
the wisdom of divine warriors echoes through generations of oppressed and victimized souls
reminding them that they are a chosen people, labeled for love in the most lavish of ways
That to stay strong is merely to say a small prayer and hum a quiet song
That they who find strength within will be quick to show strength without
standing tall, facing north to shout
that though mountains may fall through the pit of the earth
and oceans may swallow themselves in storms and swells
though trees may cease to create leaves or seeds
and winds will howl to unleash primal devastation
those who trust in love will never fail
to rise up
rise again on wings made from eagles' inspiration.