Like a spider into a bee’s honey

We’re drawn, not by the sin, but by the taste: sex drugs money.

Though the sweet smell of the nectar loses its flavor,

Still needing more, we cannot quench the savor.

Down we dive further and further until its too late.

The yearning grows stronger. The hunger overtakes.

We are no longer able to discern any way out.

The sap no longer sticks put seeps into our pours.

What was once external now internal;

Seizing the ethereal in a worthless trade of the eternal.

Muck, grime, decay; we smell of it.

Covering ourselves with perfumes of wealth and success

Nothing helps they add to the swill of it.

Stains that will not be covered.

Worth not measured by the number of lovers.

We glance in the mirror but see a false reflection

Blinding ourselves:  Justifications, rationalizations, deflections.

Nonetheless, there is someone who truly sees.

Not through a glass darkly but into our essence he peeks.

We can hide ourselves from family, friends, and passers-by on the streets

But His eyes are undaunted by our masks, lies, and conceits.

Confronted by His gaze how do we respond?

Denying useless, our righteousness revealed a fraud.

Excuses, accusations of fault on others;

We revel in our innocence.

We plead our ignorance.

We question His authority.

We deny our own humanity.

Even as our voices raise to drown out any whispers testifying to our guilt,

Even as our shame convulses our rage,

Even to the point of fists flailing and stones thrown,

He stands:

Still, Quiet, Unyielding.

Our childish tantrum spent.

If we would only look at Him one more time and not simply run back to the hive,

We will see that his hands extend.

His tears wash clean.

Years of decadence melt.

Scales of blindness fall.

Hunger, yearning, thirst; things once unquenchable now dim to irrelevance

Perspective changed we can view things of consequence.

Salvation is transformational.

He does not merely repair the replaceable .

His touch makes water into a new substance wine.

Death becomes life in the presence of the Devine.

Old becomes new lost becomes found.

The solution so childlike, so simple, we easily miss the profound.

So we must choose,

Live fully or be merely alive.

Do we follow the spider to the sweet trap of the calling nectar?

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