This is it
the breaking point
where saltwater and freshwater, red and blue, dark and light mingle
and I find the old ways to tell the difference don't work
when the water's brackish, the paint is purple and the day becomes dusk.
I'm in a land of Robin Hoods
I labeled them bad but they're only good
and the porcelain-faced doll I thought was benign
behind squeaky cleanness is bitter and vile.
The black and white rules now fade into grey
that solid footing is just sand in a sieve
falling
falling
hypnotizing me as it goes down.
And I see why the Christ had to break all the rules
since cookie cutter goodness is too easy a calling.
There is something higher and purer than law
He wants open hearts and dangerous love.
I wish someone wrote it down, a list of rules
that I might not hurt my head thinking
questioning
discerning
what You want me to do.
But the rules are melting and I'm here all alone
with a choice to make.
And this is the point.
Do I bend?
Do I break?
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