What matters, who says?
Does it really matter to the fool, that everyone thinks he is rude. Really, does it matter? Crudeness becomes her she says as in the mirror she sees the way she behaves. As she speaks, she let’s her words dig her own grave. She surmises this by your surprise, she says, “we all have to die, let me live.” At least she knows this, as her days pass her by through the life, to her demise.
Does it matter to the water when someone says, “you are all wet”? Or to the apple when he is guilty of being, -well of being crisp? Is it a crime to steal your own wallet? Or when everyone around you is working, you have your hands in your pockets. Is there time to sleep another minute, when you are late for someone who depends on you this instant?
Tell it to the alarm, there is no harm; you listen to him, as you extend your arm. Is it true that nothing matters to the one who says it’s so? Do you know how many no’s you are entitled too, as we go? If you said yes forevermore, could you avoid death or a more fatal door? Can you see beyond your pupils, can you hear beyond the sound of the range of your ears? Can you eat corn from a cob without any teeth in your mouth?
Can you be just and good to the extreme? Or is it just easier to be unfair, careless and mean? Is love just a state of mind? Does yours belong to mine? Do you laugh hysterically when you slap your knees, to what degree? And for all the pressures, all the pains, all the weather, as well as all the gains, I ask you sincerely, if you knew it all before it happened, would it still have ended up the same?
An array of choices every second as we breathe, it seems this will continue until the day we are deceased. The decision of right or wrong or the right way you move to the left. To tell the truth, the way of this world is a grand mystery at best. Nothing matters yet it all does, as it seems to me. An apple is still an apple no matter if it is red or green. Please lend me your ear; I will give it back I promise, once we both leave out of here.
The treasures of this life to me it is clear, the mystery is just, that somehow you say you cannot trust. I ask you if a mystery is without an answer that makes you aware. Is it still a mystery once you see it is made clear? When the time is settled when the time is right, when the last piece of the puzzle is placed in tight. I ask you what have you learned? I ask what happens if you end up living without any more runs or turns? I ask if you knew the answer to it all, then what my fellow human, would you honestly do then? ahhh....
Arrogance would consume you, your pride would reach out beyond time, your mind would think that you knew the answer all along. The grossness of you would dominate the tracks, the innocence you once cherished, would never be gotten back. Left to your own, you would fall, you would crumble, and you would perish as you stumbled. You are nothing to this world; and this is a fact also of me, because if you knew anything, you would want it without me. We are nothing to this world; the concept will always remain bigger than us. Thank God this is true, to whom I trust.
I concede to the mystery, I trust it to come through. It is not in a human in which I abide my trust. It is not from him or her from where I receive my thoughts. I trust in the mystery and the love behind Him.
I trust in Jesus Christ the Lord and Savior, The Father and the Holy Spirit until the end. The end is the end, you don’t even know. And with the trust i hold, sometimes i feel that it is better, not to know.
The mystery is His story His Glory, for you to live through. The mystery, It is what it is. Live with it or die it really doesn’t matter, go now, -there’s the door made Just, well just for you who do not Trust. Geo’06