A table is drawn for many,
as they slowly come to sit
each chair hand carved with heart
knowing care given to the soul that will sit there.
As they file in, it is plain to see
How different they are
Nothing in comin' by face or deed.
In one chair a man who has seen little day light,
still baring the chains marking
how violent his life has become.
The next is pale and sickly
baring legions on his skin
showing a love that has betrayed him.
A general sits down next,
squinting through his glasses
he wonders why the world thinks he mistreats his people,
darkly he wonders if his people feel the same.
Solemnly another enters with a long beard and a head fully dressed.
Lines mark his face from when he has smiled at others strife.
A Doctor is next who feels she has done no wrong
as her actions were all some one else's choice.
More fill up the table with stories of strife.
Pain and fear.
Hatred and angst.
All enemies to those who are just.
Then their host raises his hand
marred by gracious love
for all those who attend
with a small blessing, He says
"my friends let us eat!"
Outside as they eat
There is a deafening roar
Signs wave in the air
to protest the day.
They claim someone as Lord
but little do they know.
Inside a cave,
With those the abhore