The path to The Place of peace Is paved with difficult things It's found within the kitchen's heat, Not a quiet, comfortable space. If you hope to reach that holy ground And see the journey through, You've got to carry your brother, In the prayers of the heart you renew. Oh, love is the labor of intercession, A prayer for the one who left the scar. You'll never reach mountains high By leaving them right where they are. Step where the fire is burning high, Where the hollow restraints all die, For a peace that is built on a silent tongue Is a beautiful, treacherous lie. Be wary of the twisted tales Your reflexive ego will spin, Doubt the "I" and the narrative That is deceives you within. For the "We" can never truly bloom, Nor a brotherhood start to grow, Until you deconstruct the pride And let the vanity go. Oh, love is the labor of intercession, A prayer for the one who left the scar. You'll never reach the city heights By leaving them right where they are. Step where the fire is burning high, Where the hollow restraints all die, For a peace that is built on a silent tongue Is a beautiful, treacherous lie. When assumptions hide in the shadows dark, The spirit begins to erode, So speak with a clear and transparent tongue- Lay every thought out naked and bare In the light of the honest day, So the clearing is made for The Lords grace To enter in and stay. Use the word as a silver mirror To judge your own spirit's intent, Not as a blade for a neighbor's skin Or to force them to repent. Never weaponize the sacred verse To sharpen a strike or a blow; The text is for healing the broken heart, Not for bruising a fallen foe. Oh, love is the labor of intercession, A prayer for the one who left the scar. You'll never reach the city heights By leaving them right where they are. Step where the fire is burning high, Where the hollow restraints all die, For a peace that is built on a silent tongue Is a beautiful, treacherous lie. We are bound in the mess and the mending, Travelers on the same road, But pride has a way of tightening The weight of the heavy load. When the reasoning ends and the ego climbs, And the season of struggle is spent, Let go in peace and walk away With a heart that is truly content. Sometimes the kindest path of all Is to simply turn and go... Leaving no room for the bitter root In the only soul you know.
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