Faberge Eggs
I feel like everyone skips ahead to the triumph
Fast-forwarding past the cost
Forgetting that every victory comes with a fear
And every addition comes with a cross
Where something somewhere is sacrificed for gain.
There’s a moment of pure indecision when the outcome
Hangs on the edge of a knife
The swing of a pendulum strike
Too far away to miss
And too close to hit.
Broadsided by the ramifications of our predilections
Our own resurrections take a back seat
To our persistent reflections on things we have long since
Left in the rear view
Best analyzed in a white room
With a shock collar lest we disagree with ourselves
As if our conflictions can persuade our convictions
To rise from their long dormant states
So just to be safe, we’re raising the stakes
And convincing ourselves that it’s for a good cause
That we stay and we stay and sometimes we pray
That Santa Jesus will make us all better
Without anyone ever having to work.
And we skip again to the apex, the climatic conclusion
Setting aside our abrasions, contusions
And basking once more in our emphatic delusions
That we knew it, we always knew it all along
Perhaps we’ve done repentance wrong
And instead of repenting for what we cannot atone
We skipped ahead to the new old familiar song
Where the triumph comes and the shadows pass
And the skies are clear of dust and ash
And we’re forgiven the questions we never asked
And nobody ever needed an ounce of faith to get here.
How did we get from Jesus to this
Without really noticing the God that we’ve missed?
