Tete-a-Tete With the Taunting Skeptic

So many doubts and questions twirl and swirl in your mind,
In your heart ridden with anxiety and so you like to argue
Beyond propriety with the society of believers in notoriety
Of your ill-thought opinions bought at the price of faith,
Bating the faithful to satiate your appetite for tragic blight
And darkly seasoned plight of pure souls, knowing you cannot
Snatch them from the hand of the One who is Truth, showing
Your ignorance of the nature of salvation and sanctification
Of the children of God, some of whom have become wise enough
To no longer engage you in your irrational rage against life
And light so bright from heaven above; but will you inquire
Of yourself and require answers of your own heart, not in part
But in the fullness of soul-honesty, admitting the wide hole
There that you cannot fill, no matter the transient thrill
Of your argumentation against the God, who fills all in all?
Yes, on your merry way from day to day, you are bound to fall
No matter how tall you imagine you stand; the grandest band
Is already playing your funeral dirge as you urge yourself
Deeper into your own self-made grave, and what a knave
To clearly see what is to be, yet refuse to bend your knee
And bow your head ere the Reaper come to strike you dead…
But you have always said you know what is best and so wear
Your skeptic-vest in pride; nevertheless, one day you will
Have died too soon, yet too late,
To realize you’ve believed the lie!


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