Walls Of A Jericho

I am just dust, ash, embers of an old flame breathed to life then smothered by shame
I am but a drop of the rain that hisses upon these burning coals, rise in a wisp of grey vapor, tricked by fools
I am only a single star among many, a dull glow in a dreamless galaxy, to plenty I am unseen
I am the denied son freed from osterity, barely, to keep from drowning

You are just the drifting of a feather, from humble heights you spiral and fall and fail to keep it together
You are but a silent whisper, a hoarse lipped stranger to a deaf eared danger, tried to heal the world with words of a babe in a manger
You are only a single soul in a place without hope, a light surely shining, but choked from an ember's smoke
You are the potentialed many who fail to see the truth in a light greater than thee

We are the thunderous rain that comes with trumpet's sound, crush the walls of a Jericho built inside hard hearts unfound
We are the strike of a bolt that illuminates a darkened hollow, a jagged lightning straightened by words of a Mystery Fellow
We are the roar that trembles that firm foundation, that deafens every wail and affirms salvation
We are the storm that shakes the planet, together we are strong, but separate are pathetic

They are just seeds cast upon stone, that wilter and crumble like dry old bones
They are but the flicker of a fickle flame, a wick shortened by years of burning blame
They are only children orphaned by a world chosen to forget their existence, lost to sight and met solely with resistance
They are the masses that gurgle and flow, a sludge stupefied by life's final show, oblivious to this knowledge that is known

He is the one who forgives and allows us to be unashamed, who gathers our sorrows and heals our pain
He is the one who shouts our whispers, who cares enough to be our listener
He is the one who forgoes our failures and tailors a love through a cross bearer
He is the One. The Father of a Son whose love poured out for thee, and whose love lasts for eternity.

The world is an enigma shrouded by insecurity, wondering if we're good enough to live a life under purity
That all is for naught because we are less than perfect, confused and abused under this false prefect
How can you be renewed when led askew, when these walls are built and held by "truth?"
How can this world have so much potential when the sin it exudes becomes exponential?

We are all vessels.
Empty shells.
We are all potentialed.
Time will tell.

He is the past, the present and the future.

Time will tell.