I believed the lie that I was sold, 

When I was told that my soul, 

Was worth in gold what I could hold. 

 

So on my shoulders was the world, 

Like pillars made of stones, 

That were rolled to close the grave,

Where I laid to rest the best of what I had to say. 

 

For if worth and value hang on threads that fray, 

Then silence buys you time to waste, 

And violence doesn’t look like fists, but the whip,

Of whispers that insist,

Your contradictions condemn the gift in you. 

 

We, the hypocrites with hidden limps, hips displaced from midnight fights, 

Where we came face to face with God, 

Before He blessed us where we lay.  

 

Yet the image of perfection still, 

Penetrates my present, 

Until the very mention of my name, 

Is painted with rejection, 

And framed on walls of shame. 

 

As it was with Adam when he hid behind the leaves,

The only separation between us and our maker is in the lies that we believe.

We sleep through our existence, 

Dumbed down by a persistent system, 

That is hell-bent on beating us into submission, 

Until we are no longer free. 

 

But my heart still beats within my body,

And as long as I still breathe, 

I’m not submitting to an idol,

Made of the rocks beneath my feet,

That still cry out when I’m silent. 

 

Creation is in protest, 

Bringing Tyrants to their knees,

Yearning for the sons of God,

Those coming kings and queens:

The walking contradictions, 

Those limping as they lead. 

 

That trophy of having fought, 

For the cause that you believe. 

 

To raise a torch and make a noise, 

Disrupting demons where they sleep.

 

With heaven leaning in,

The veil is tearing at the seam,

The saints of old and new and all that’s true, 

Resurrected to redeem. 

 

We, the ambassadors of heaven, 

The remnants of a vision seen,

By Father, Son and Holy Spirit,

The almighty Elohim,

Who still hovers upon the waters, 

Over the souls of sons and daughters,

Eager to create again,

That we may taste the goodness with which He brought us,

Back into the garden, that stands without walls and borders.

 

My friends… today is Genesis.

 

The author has restored us,

Because He never finished writing.

 

His Word won’t be distorted, 

Or Forgotten; He is for us,

He loves without condition and He constantly implores us,

To join in heaven’s chorus: 

Holy Holy Holy is the lamb,

The almighty God above, 

Who was and is and is to come,

Defeating Death within His Love. 

 

Holy Holy Holy is the lamb,

The almighty God above, 

Who was and is and is to come,

Defeating Death within His Love. 

 

 

 

Words by Joshua Luke Smith, a music artist, performer, and activist. Follow him on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook.