Poetry is turning out to be a very cathartic medium, I should do this more often.
Set the Mood
I carry the banner of my King,
But my King does not stand by me.
My brothers and I wing to wing,
But my King does not lead the charge.
Organized under the name of my King,
His orders passed down by another man.
We marched on and so did we sing,
Hymns in His apparent absence.
Gathered in the hall of the King,
For this is what we are told to do.
Gathered when the bells did ring,
But only commoners joined us.
Performing acts on behalf of the King,
For He was never getting His hands dirty.
Perhaps we’d find him in the spring?
But no he was not waiting there either.
Spreading the promises of the King,
For His voice has never been heard.
Onto written words that we shall cling,
We must hang on lest we be punished.
Punished by men who follow the King,
For they felt the words to be righteous.
Natural feelings that give us a zing,
Not allowed to feel them at all.
So where now is our King,
As children die of disease and more?
Ready for Him to relieve the sting,
But never does He arrive.
Give all the credit for your work to the King,
Lest you be punished for self-righteous pride.
I’ll be waiting here with my loaded sling,
In case He should ever decide to arrive.
Power Is Mine
When I look at the world I see power, and when I grasp it that is when I realize where true power lies. It is within my hands, your hands, those that dwell on earth have the power. Kick a stone and it moves, place a bandage on a wound and it heals, offer some kindness and you lift someone's spirits. It doesn't matter who you wish to give that credit to, the credit belongs only to the one performing those actions, the only ones in action are us here and now.
My power to change the world for the better comes from me, and that is a power we all should be utilizing without bias.