Grace has fled the world of men.
She cannot abide where she is shunned.
Sensitive as the wings of Monarchs
she flies only where the sun rises
and where the gales of avarice are tamed.
Where men conspire in shadows to ill,
Grace turns quietly aside.
This world, lost as it is in illusion,
cannot behold the virtues of Truth,
for, companion to Grace, Truth is antidote
to the poison of hatred men quaff like nectar, and
which they dispense as food among the many.
Immune to their own poison, they offer
only the justice of fools and cowards.
The wise, instead, drink at the table of the virtuous
the elixir of Grace and Truth
in silent admiration of the nature of life.
Undisturbed they see the world’s powerful as
mere shades of men lost in catacombs of delusion,
and that such shadowy specters are unable to gain
entrance into the glories of life’s sacred spirit.
Dead, blind, and dumb, the Predators of Men
alone walk the benighted way of the Fall.
Pity those of worldly might for theirs
is the spiral of the wingless eagle
who from his high perch of rock
was by the wind of his own contempt
cast down upon himself and thence
into the wailing abyss of his own design.
Some long lifetimes down the way
men who marry destruction and pander disdain
to lift themselves upon their high towers
will at last weep the tears of God
that stream like blood from the wounds
by which they wrecked themselves and their heritage.
All souls are bestowed with the path
that leads by Grace to Truth and Peace,
but which only the humble and the wise may walk.
Without Grace, none may find that Joy
that surpasseth all possession and renders the ego
but an empty state of shadow.
Without that Grace, men die again and again
by Kevin Trammel