Borrowed Breath
Sound the brilliant bugle call!
We’re sinking in the void!
Unto the tune come one, come all!
We’re soon to be destroyed!
The dregs of time go to the pit,
The dross of sin sinks low;
The cave where fallen angels sit,
So deep in hell, below.
Our memories — a fractured tomb,
The devil leaps in glee;
Iniquitous from out the womb,
Hell’s flame our destiny.
The shredding scissor hands cut quick,
With dessicated lives,
Our poisoned fate so rank and sick,
As gangland business thrives.
Seeking out the form of hope,
In scraps of riteous men,
The pattern of the Christ a trope,
We cannot claim again.
See Charlie Kirk shot in the neck?
And bleeding out, stone dead,
His ministry a hopeful speck—
And lifeless cold he bled.
It’s Christ alone, the preacher’s word,
And he’d be right to say,
Sure as the sun — I’m undeterred,
He is the life, the way!
But fallen men in mammon dwell,
With money as their king,
Sweet Christ replaced by works of hell,
The pain — a hornet’s string.
The drums of war pound ever on,
Proclaiming that we’re doomed,
The hand of fate — a blasting gun,
With everyone consumed.
Such fevered shaking of my hands—
With blood on perished skin,
Bombastic death through barren lands;
The torment of my kin!
I sink in quicksand misery—
My mind as mute as clay,
No providential ministry,
Can rouse a brighter day…
We’re at the gallows, dark in hoods,
The noose set round our necks,
The tawny owl cries from the woods,
The witch yells out her hex.
The wooden platform struck away,
And hanging limp, we fail,
Our muffled voices in dismay,
Dead bodies hanging pale.
The melody upon the wind?
A dirge to mark our death,
For everyone has somehow sinned,
And walks with borrowed breath.
ADL
adamdaniel 