arsonists at the doorstep

i live with arsonists at my doorstep, with kidnappers prowling for their next victim. I stare out of my window, peeking through the curtains, as i wonder who might be staring at me, watching each other, with scary eagle eyes.

he who conducts a symphonic anarchy, and clenches us within his fist. he who orchestrates fear and sacks the city. i am tired. i look at it all through heavy lidded eyes, i too am falling under this spell.

us all, who are apathetic, and worry over mindless matters. the next paychecque, the best restaurant, the last bottle of wine. and we forget that the ground still shakes and the world moves for reasons we cannot define.

and we live fearfully and fearlessly simultaneously, all for the wrong things, crying over the wrong bottles of spilt milk. barking up the wrong trees, over and over again.

i don't believe crystal balls exist. the next car crash, earthquake or death stat, we cannot predict. we are not all powerful. and here we are, burning each other alive... burying each other alive...

tomorrow will be better. i have His in my faith. it is all i/we have.