Dying Vine


Dying Vine - Lyrics

The Paragon:

Beyond the confines of time, the origin and foundation of formulation.  The formless face encased in all creation.  The embodiment of authentic authority.  Abstract intangibility personified to reconcile the gulf of separation.  Undefiled by the loins of man.  Born free of the dark inheritance inherent in all men.  Crystalline intention, absolute but yet unclear.  The archetype of intended life, a spotless anomaly circumventing all conception and convention.  The fulfillment of visions and the herald of hope.  The culmination of thousands of years of anticipation.  The usher of thousands of years of transubstantiation.

Chided, Threatened, Condemned, Betrayed, Detained, Ridiculed, Denied, Cursed, Chastised, Defiled, Beaten, Battered, Broken, Crucified, Forsaken.

Selfless Abandon; the seal of Atonement.  The watermark of eternal precedent.

Broken Legacy:

The standard had been set and preparations had been made for the inheritance. The path ahead had been cleared, the end of the journey revealed before steps had been tread. The means by which the ends compile had been designed and defined for all to follow. Narrow, straight, safe, secured, unique, unrivaled. The destination awaits; the source of full life to which we aspire. The wellspring of truth, begetting hope and desire. A network into which we all have been planted with the intention to flourish and bear fruit.

The allure of self-reliance and indulgence of desire led to the separation from the network of design. Withered and frail, thirsty for life; but I've severed my roots, leaving my vine dying. Isolated, unattached from the truth, consuming myself, unable to bear fruit. I've chosen to walk away from the birthright of my name. All that was set before me now seems impossible to attain. The source still remains and awaits for the broken branch to be re-grafted.

Dark skies and I’m drowning in the flood again. Endless affliction sent to torture my soul. Why does this misery follow me? Why can’t I escape this pain? Drill another hole through my skull. Release another demon. Take any length to pass the blame. Responsibility - washed my hands clean. Demons in the night? Self-righteous perception. Defensively, I hide blind in the shadows. Misery cuts deep and yet my innocent hands hold the blood soaked knife. Every action leads to reaction, every choice to a consequence. Foolish decisions yield a price to pay. Pass the blame and yet the debt remains. Wipe the scales from my eyes that I might gain clarity of sight. With a new perspective I take ownership of my actions, the impending flood now seems a healthy rain. Pain is inevitable but misery is optional. Suffering and pain will fade away as hope lives on and love remains.

Injustice between brothers left un-mended, with no chance left to reconcile. Will you forgive me in my memories? For I can’t turn back the hands of time. Haunted by questions of what could have been. Sorrow, shame, regret. Friendship defiled. … The smoke settles as the echo fades. This quiet stillness is so peace less. Hopeless decision made in haste, leaving only “numb” – the hand scrawled explanation. Why couldn’t you have waited five more minutes? Why couldn’t I have spared five more of mine? Who am I to shed a tear? The Hope I bear I bore inside. … The silence shatters as the fall breaks. Lifetime reflection in a momentary decent. Tragic accident without warning left so many ends untied. Why couldn’t I have said I’m sorry? Why had I forsaken you? Brotherhood I have defiled. The Love I bare I have denied. Brother against brother, selfish stubborn battle. Petty qualms fester deep, severing all ties. Principles borne to heart have all been pushed aside. Tragedy reveals this squandered wasted time. Great truths revealed through grave mistakes. Hard lessons learned through retrospect. Bite not the hand that has been offered. Deny not a hand to help another. Let bitter judgment fall the way of hate and embrace thy brethren.

An Open Grave

(An unobtrusive observation from the outside, of the steady degradation of blossoming life.)

All consumed with fire, raging on the injustice defiling this home, the devastation is two-fold. Malevolent darkness upstaged by the beauty of innocent eyes and radiant smiles. Actuality saps the luster from my life, degenerative secret leaves my eyes vacant and dull. All that I am I offer in absolution, my blood to mark the door that this shadow of death may pass over. My lots cast back, not my place to absolve. Limited by knowledge to just watch this horror unfold, lamentation waits for a breakthrough.

How can I mourn for your plight when your persistent fervor testifies that you’re determined to fight? The bravery of your endurance of hope shows strength far exceeding the faith I’ve failed to hold. This bitter contempt constricting my path, I’ve never observed in your embrace of fate. I pray that your peace and vibrancy of life will live on through mine in your absence.

The Shepherd’s Fold:

Barren isolation amongst the closest of friends, longing for contentment and peace. Beaten and confined by an established code of counterintuitive reason and worth. Settling to mimic the distorted reflections of shadow’s cast. Autonomous allegiance to that which passes away, obscuring the infallibility of the unseen. Bitter unrest tears a hole in the whole of a man. Gut wrenching fear paralyzing the will and the mind, staying the purveyance of grace. Catatonic disposition, well dressed with a veil of passive obedience to acceptance. Traversing the well-beaten path with a contrived countenance of success.

Face first in the corner of an empty room. Confidence is found in hiding, although vulnerable and in plain view. Self-protective deception is only detrimental. Shutting eyes to the light brings darkness only to the inside

The Dividing Line:

Shifting winds scatter the ashes of perception; subjective, experiential shades of gray. Circumstantial conditions sire contrived reason and rationalized logic; the fundamentals for manufacturing the relative standard. Re-conjuring the measure to match the scale, denying the line that has been drawn between the rock and the sand. Foundations of fabrication suit the desires of the moment, forming a convenient framework of comfort and immunity. This structure crumbles when the sands are swept away. These are only shadows on a wall; easily manipulated, distorted reflections of the definitive core. Integrity rests unchanging on absolute objectivism. The unwaivering standard maintains the precedent by which all is accountable. Transcendent truth that eclipses all situational comprehension. The line that divides black from white and defines the design that protects and guides. It is time to choose a side of the dividing line.

Faint reflections herald the break of dawn as shadows are overtaken by the warmth of light. The mist subsides and the songs arise as darkness succumbs to a new day. The binding silence of the absence of light falls to the freedom of the rising sun. (Not merely the start of a new cycle, but the renewal of life’s potential.) Another chance to rise and embrace the gift of life Stand in awe of the promise that transcends the frailty of time. Another chance to rise and revel in the glory of the truth indwelling. Marvel at the divine manifestations of rebirth. Another chance to rise and pursue the wisdom of the hand that guides. Extol the power that “re-grafts the dying vine.” - Romans 11:24 Another chance to rise and rest in the assurance of hope. Strive to defend and uphold the sanctity of truth. Take this time to revive your own strength and take full advantage of potential. Do not let this opportunity fade and be forsaken by the desire to rest in the shadows. This is the time to stand and proclaim that there is still Hope. This is a call to arms, stand up and fight against the lifeless norm. This is a charge against the apathy that furthers this complacent world. This is the time for change, all that remains is to move beyond the self-absorbed. This is a call to arms, stand and embrace the glory that this day unfolds.

Burnt Offerings: Instrumental

How Could I: Cynic cover