The Gray Path by Marc Chapman

Neither dark nor light, black nor white,
I struggle to balance my soul.
To Christians I'm lost, at much cost,
Hell must be my afterlife goal.

I walk the fine line, thin thread fine
I proclaim both truth and lies, too.
But God I revere, it's quite clear
My conscience keeps me from evil true.

But why must this be, captive free,
The spirit can soar but is bound?
What purpose is this, hate and bliss
For a mortal who treads on ground?

Insanity plea must it be
If laws I break against my will
Not right in the head, not quite dead
To God will I pay my life's bill.

The gray path I walk, I don't balk,
I place my life at the Lord's feet.
Someday in the morn, Christ reborn,
May come down to walk through the street.

Of course some might say, come what may,
There isn't a Heaven or Hell.
Those who think they know, blindly go
Without a doubt that they can tell.

Armageddon lives, God's son gives,
The end of suffering and pain.
For those who believe, do not grieve
The vanquish of evil again.

Why is it that I do not cry
That I have no faith or belief?
I'd forfeit my life without strife
To know if this God is a thief.

Perhaps souls can learn, even yearn
To transcend the limits of thought
Alive we'll not know, still we go
And think that our souls can be bought.

Following "God's will" will not still
Give us answers to questions asked.
Psychics surely won't, clergy don't
For true knowledge often is masked.

The "good book" can teach, some may preach
To lead faithful to Heaven's gates
No one is certain this curtain
Will rise to reveal our true fates.

A blasphemous lie, I decry
The words that so many follow
The Bible's a book, just a hook
To catch those whose lives are hollow.

In my reclusion delusion
Is simple enough to debase
Faith so elusive, seclusive
Yet simple enough to embrace

Along this gray path will God's wrath
Be sure to make my life dim
In my waning years will my fears
Cause me to supplicate to Him?

©1998 Marc Chapman