My Simple Life the World Can not Understand

My Simple Life the World Can not Understand

By Katherine B. Parilli

 

My song is humble and sweet,

Lacking in the entire fine graces and coy distractions.

I make my way quietly through life.

Of feminine charms I am completely unaware,

My world to simple and concrete.

 

To me the world is a strange and arrogant place.

I am lost to its deadly wares and spidery games.

Its shadows are long and creepy,

Of its self-sufficient pride I dare not care to partake.

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I want more than money and glory.

I seek for something grandeur than silver and gold.

Servants and cars are delightful things,

But they can not replace peace of mind.

Jewels and furred coats may look lovely upon fine ladies,

But what are they to self-respect and honor.

 

The world looks at me and laughs.

In their eyes I am just a crazy duck nesting on an icy mountainside.

Only from fools and babes could such logic come they laugh.

Who would not wish to eat our rich costly dishes.

Wear our fine fancy linen,

Or partake of your decadent balls.

We are the masters of our fates,

And at our shoes the universe should gratefully bow.

 

What silly child would not want to drink our aged wine?

What foolish lamb would not desire to grace our golden tables?

Only a blind, incorrigible, rabble would shirk in horror from our gluttonous feast and reveling ways.

We are kings of the world,

Masters of the universe,

What have we to do with such inferior minds?

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So the world and I are less then friends.

They can not understand my simple ways.

And I despise their lying mouths

Which seek the solitary pennies of orphaned child,

Infuriatedly claim the meager rags of the worn and poor,

And boldly seeks the Kings Heavenly throne.

 

I seek a life of purity and grace.

I long to walk through Heaven’s blessed undefiled gates.

While the world loves sin and sinners ways,

They seek the god of gold,

The god of fun,

The god of mischief,

The god of power,

And any god who loves their vain flittering ways.

 

But the God I seek is pure and holy.

His ways are not mine-

For He is undefiled.

The ways of sin are torture to His soul.

Yet upon the spoiled tainted lives of sinners He offers undiluted mercy.

Follow Me and change thy ways.

Why would thou die in sin,

Why perish in curable pain?

Drink of My blood the gift of forgiveness.

Eat of My bread the words of life.

Live!

And depart from thy evil ways.

Sit at the Tree of Life.

Drink freely of the river that flows from My throne.

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Depart from evil!

And know what it is like to know no fear.

Enjoy the blossom of eternal health.

Spring forth into a life of eternal youth.

 

This is the path I long to walk,

This is the home for which my heart sings.

In the strength of God,

Basking in His forgiveness-

I long to begin my journey home.

 

And so the world mocks my humble ways.

They deride my observance of His special day of rest.

Mocking the little light that shines so feebly through me.

For I am now His,

A reflection of His love in this sin bedarkened world.

And as they hated the Son of Man,

So now they hate His humble servant.

My flickering light,

As small as a solitary star on a moonless storm cloud night.

To them, enraged even by this flimsy slim shallow of Heaven,

To them in their darkened state now appears as strong as the noonday sun.

 

No image of God can they endure.

even my sin-crumpled heap is to painful a reminder of all they must loose.

Their love of shimmering fools gold sparkling in a filtered pool

Has altogether destroyed their love for the real jewels.

Content with a land flowing with zirconium-

They no longer feel need to travel the long self-denying distance,

Endure the painful stripes that lead to the most precious diamond.

In their preserved state,

Tucked away from the harsh boiling blows of earth’s most impoverished life-

They feel no need of cleansing waters,

Or be feed by ravens.

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Secure from every revealing mirror,

They can not see the disheveled, dirt torn rags they wear.

Their matted hair, unwashed hair and unshaved faces are lost.

The rotting carcass upon which they feast are praised as the feast of kings,

And the putrid smell of the growing sores upon their shallow backs,

They toast as the perfume of the gods-

A symbol of their undying love.

Free from the revealing light,

Content to feast away their lives in their decorated pits of evil restraint,

They congratulate themselves with tales of their mighty deeds and unsurpassed wealth-

All the time unaware of the looming sentence of death passed upon them by their cleverly disguised captors.

Who mock their drunken revelry,

Exult in the deadly pit transformed into temples of pleasure.

Watching in glee as men of vigor, mental genius, and unlimited talent,

Quietly succumb without a fight to the glistening zirconium and poisoned-laced wine.

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Coming in as men of wealth and fortune,

Filled with infinite promise,

They are transformed into unknown slaves.

Groveling at the feet of decadence, praise, and wealth,

They sell their souls to their chosen gods.

Willingly giving up the eternal riches of Heaven’s purity,

For a life in a decorated pit,

A prison of doom distracting the minds of its inhabitants with false images of wealth,

Until their bodies are sallow and rotting,

To feeble to fight when the façade drops and the pungent cold stone walls are revealed.

 

And because deep down the most repressed recesses of their hearts recognize the slow decay,

Sense their day of doom will soon dawn,

They can not endure my growing desire to flee the loathsome prison around me.

Knowing some day I may be free,

Free to stand unblushingly in Heaven’ pure courts,

They seethe and rage.

Angered that my little light flashes out in contrast to their self-destructive party,

Warning them that unless they too shall long to flee the dungeon of sin,

Give their heart and lives over to the control of the humble Shepherd,

Their day of doom must come.

The sentence of death must be fulfilled unless they trade their prison for the cross of Calvary.

 

And so to them I must remain a foolish child.

An agitating voice that cuts against their sin inspired ways.

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My simple ways are not my own.

Of my own strength I could not endure their cruel taunts,

Walk the path so lonely and harsh.

Yet I long to hear the voice of He who walked before me.

To sit at the side of the one who shed His precious blood for me.

To be released from this vile body,

As I cast off these sin stained garments torn with the thorns of strife

In exchange for His regal robes cleansed by His nail scarred hands.

 

IMG_5143My simple ways the world can not understand.

I do not expect their praise or delight.

My life is so unlike their own,

To all who love the pit I must remain a foolish child because I seek the pearl of great price.

But I do not fear.

Their taunts can do me no harm.

For my trust is not in the master of the pit,

The gods of wine and unabandoned revelry I do not know.

I serve the living God.

The God that parted the waters of the Red Sea,

The God that thundered on Mt. Sinai,

The God that died out of love for me.

And to His cross I give my allegiance.

To His throne alone will I give honor.

And by His unbreakable arm will I be lifted from the mire to feast with holy angels.

One day never more to be counted a foolish child by the broken masses.

Now and evermore to be an unlimited child of the Eternal King!

© 2016

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