Beneath the surface my soul awaits,
The day my God’s Spirit awakes
A deep longing for an unknown dream;
Igniting a vision for things unseen.
From an armchair I sit and ruminate what’s right,
Preparing for the day I’m gonna stand up and fight,
From the darkness to light, from night into dawn,
Take my post, straighten up and strap my weapons on.
But Lord I need your voice, I need a push.
The motivation of vision and a burning bush;
To spark a word, which might spark a deed,
Which might find the hunger my hands can feed.
I feel the symptoms of this world but there’s more than pain,
I see the hatred between brothers, but it’s all a game.
Soldiers in the streets hating faces they don’t know,
Animosity escalating until the anger blows.
I feel soft, having been hidden behind the curtain,
Closed eyes and desensitized to the burdens
that cause the deeper hurtin, kick up the dirt ‘n
blind my eyes to the prejudice so certain in every home on my block.
Oh the bitter insanity that I know but don’t see,
In some ways blinded by my own Christianity
And paralyzed by my incessant vanity,
Studdering to walk in this opportunity
To create what we could be, a new humanity.
A dead man walking; no rest or peace,
Cursed to face west, back to the east.
But I pray, love’s rays raise from dawn one day
And seep into my skin and change my way.
Inspiration is the penetration of love’s concentration into my spirit’s cage,
But for me to speak words into this generation requires a wisdom conjoined with rage.
It requires a passion for a vision particular to this age.
One I don’t have due to the vanity in my mind backstage.
I feel like a soldier in the middle of a war,
Drunk and out of shape; forgetting what he’s fighting for.
But I hope, though fattened in wealth’s estate;
The education I’ve gotten will help improve the world’s fate.
My own brothers have left me in the trenches to die,
When they see me hurtin’ struggling to survive.
And I’m lost on enemy ground trying to find my way,
But whatever the cost, I’m bound to shine and say,
What’s on my mind, straight from the heart, come what may.
It’s a pretty face I know but there’s a rustling underneath,
Of paralysis and confusion, my soul a vast heath
A wasteland, but I do what I can with the God-given tools at hand,
So I stand and plan with a foundation of doubt
Not knowing if I’m ever going to figure this out.
But there’s no time to pout about childhood pain,
The curse of wealth and the game of shame,
Invoked by the jealous and prejudicial claim,
To justify killing the powerful, taking aim.
At the wealthiest kids without knowing their name,
Not caring who they are only from whence they came.
It’s hard for the wealthy to see,
You see, we can be lost to the world’s needs.
It’s easier for a camel to be through the eye of a needle
Than for a rich man to be free so heed all
This and help us be, I’m not looking for your sympathy,
I just need a guide in the midst of this life
To point me where the wars at, the appropriate strife,
To embolden my soul and empower the weak,
To begin to be the very change I want and seek.
But so long as I stay in this sheltered place,
I will never see my Lord’s shining face.
I’m more likely to find it, living on the streets
Then I am in the palaces of these wealthy elites.
I can only pray that I’m not as lost as I feel,
Puncturing the superficial and keeping it real.
I can only hope that this time of preparation
Is a time for me to set my foundation,
For the ensuing creation of a better nation,
Resisting temptation and walking in salvation.
And despite my frustration with this spiritual formation,
I got to keep my concentration on my education,
So that I can make it through to graduation, not for celebration,
But for the inauguration of my life’s vocation;
Bringing to this world a new realization,
Provoking conversation to settle our trepidation
Of who and what we don’t know through our discrimination
Based on association and racial affiliation,
But my orientation stems from my inclination
To be the personification of Christ’s love and creation.
But the vagueness and ambiguity
blinds my eyes so that I can’t see
What path to take, or what trail to tread.
All these thoughts running through my head.
You want to talk about God’s desire,
Well I’m patiently waiting for Jeremiah’s fire,
But I’m beginning to get a little tired of waiting,
Cause I can feel my soul slowly fading.
Some say I’m young, I say I’m too old,
To not know what I’m doing and just doing what I’m told.
Have I sold out? Has my heart grown cold,
Too busy worrying about whether I fit the mold.
There’s a mental block I face,
I’m a basket case, but I’ll chase the light
And I know that I’ll fight when the day comes
After St. John’s night, I’ll hear the war drums
In my chest, louder than the criticisms of all the rest,
And I will stand and speak, listenin’ to the weak,
From South East Asia to Mozambique.
The world is my stage and its people my aim,
And I will succeed so long as I don’t worry about the fame,
And remain focused on the soul beneath,
But until that day, there’s just this rustling underneath.
