My sons are being hunted
Look they’re on the run
More than just police stops and gun shots
My sons are being hunted
Now they’re on the run
Their lives do more than matter
Their lives count
One, two, three
For I count them
I know them each by name
I have seen and heard them
Yes I do know all their pain
See the hunt began long before language, borders and land divided man
Before color defined an experience
Before the bricks had thoroughly baked in Babel
Before birth and back in the Garden
where God formed flesh from clay
The hunt began
This race is older than race
More than just my face and your face and the differences between them
Eden saw the first attempt as Hell came forth and struggled along the cool earth to find its forked tongue and say,
“Did God really say?”
Pitting the son against the Father and creating the foremost great divide
Crafting rebellion and then sewing it into the fabric of my DNA
The disease spread and I gave it to my son
And my son passed it on and on and on
And then on!
And as he multiplied so did this thing
This thing called sin
But my sons did grow
They grew into a promise concealed within the loins of a people who began few in number
Who lifted their eyes toward Cannan and followed that promise as yet unlit by any star to become as many as the stars
And when their numbers grew and the promise within them threatened that dark kingdom it reached forth its hand in the form of a septor
And so there came the first command to hunt my sons
Though babes their potential was a kinetic threat
And in them lay the future
A Son
My Son
And so limb by limb they cut me
They burned me
They stifled me
THEY DROWNED ME!
They assaulted me by hunting my sons
The Nile ran cold over the bodies of my children
That river presumed to have swallowed my children
And my cry rose up to Heaven
My anguished, twisted, mournful, vengeful cry ascended and was heard
And salvation was drawn from a basket
My deliver was lifted from the waters that should have been his grave
Escaping the hunt and frustrating the might of great hoards of armies
Legions of them
Shadowy hosts swift and deadly
Hell bent, you might say on my destruct- death
Escaping the hunt and frustrating the might of great hoards of–
And of Pharoah’s armies too.
Through the ages my Enemy pursued me
Taking action against me for the potential within me
For my Son was destined to be my Enemy’s end
And he pursued me through time
Always marking the trail of his steps with the blood of my children
Their innocence too often offered upon an altar
The institutionalization of their murder defined and redefined
Legalized and religiously backed
Their cries drowned out by the hypnotic beat of the drums of those days
And of your days
And when my petition reached the ears of heaven
A star lit the way to where I bowed low and gave from within me
A Son
The Son
To comfort the loss of so many of my children
To stem the hemorrhage of my heart
To cover all their blood with his own
The piercing of my body with a sword
The breaking of my bondage
The completion of the terms of my servitude
He was the declaration of my emancipation
The freeing of my family with His Word
And in the night that saw one star light the skies to where I lay
My Enemy’s shrieks called forth the swiftness of death and its army to come for my hope
To come for my child
He hunted my children
He found my sons
And with the sword He vandalized my legacy
With the sword He cut down my heritage
But my Son was concealed for a time
Until His time
For all time prophets and wise men, judges and kings longed to see God’s remedy,
The Great Deliver
Messiah
Hatching and revising plans suitable to the limits of their finite minds still trapped in time they wrestled to concoct for themselves a plan for salvation
They baked their bricks thoroughly and built their tower in unity
Could they have understood the construct of the Divine
Could they know the one great Love
Could they but understand the Great I AM
But Babel makes bricks and not restitution
Babel projects plans of prosperity but never sacrifice
Babel erects towers to the heavens but has foolishly never comprehended that great height
Erroneously Babel underestimates that Great Divide
But bypassing the confusion of Babel
The Almighty funneled the light of the world into the body of a baby
Instead of the soul of a man
The only way to eradicate the original rebellion is to destroy the source
If that source is within, my blood must be shed
As the carrier of the rebellious disease my annihilation is the only logical method
The only logical one
So throughout history we have sacrificed lambs and bulls, turtle doves, goats, chickens… Children
Hoping to cover ourselves
Hoping to distract with the scent of their blood
Hoping to stave off our eventual destruction
We’ve broken the the very laws on which the universe is hinged and hope that deeming ourselves “a good person” will make it alright
We’ve done away with God and Heaven and Hell And Eternity in the hope that we won’t have to show up to pay for our crimes.
The theoretic destruction of ourselves in the after life
The theoretic destruction of the afterlife
O the great lengths to cover up the truth
And still God became a man
A man filled with the only blood that, once spilled, could suffice for all our blood
The only blood that could cover all the evil that ever was.
A Son to redeem me from the fact that matter cannot cease to be but must be somewhere even after I stop breathing
The Almighty funneled the light of the world into the body of a baby
Instead of the soul of a man
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