Two friends
now stand at the same door
I had once entered
and exited, before.
One is heading out.
One might go in.
One is fleeing darkness.
One might embrace sin.
She who is leaving,
(as I also learned,)
knows the folly of entering;
knows evil should be spurned.
I will weep for joy as the one comes out,
and cry in anguish ‘til the other turns about.
If you leave Him due/
to sin and not doctrine, the/
return’s easier.
She was my friend. How/
can I judge her for sinning/
how I used to sin?
OR
She was my friend. How/
can I judge her for doing/
what I used to do?
Feeling guilty for/
thinking, not doing something/
you shouldn’t? Progress!
The burden of sin/
makes the tray of emblems seem/
even more heavy.
There are many who have done
far worse things
than I have,
who have lived lives
unbecoming of what they should be,
who falsify what
they say they represent,
who are punished less than me.
They don’t care.
When I stand before the great bar,
with my mistakes,
and my sins,
and my lies,
and all the things that I’ve done wrong,
those wrongs which I have tried
so hard
to admit,
acknowledge
accept
and repent of,
will He who is
the great Judge of all look upon me
more kindly
and with more mercy
than He looks at them?
I don’t care.