The World Of Condemnation! Poem by MBJ Pancras

I open the door of the Green Room. I set out into the world. There are flames of fire across the sky. It is a journey of life around me. I hear cries of agony.
"Fire! Fire! Everywhere fire! "
I turn towards the direction of the cries.
"We've lost our lives! They've set our property ablaze. Where shall we wander? "
All of a sudden cries of pleasure turns my attention towards the pleasurable cries.
"Long live our dead ‘leader'! Let's garland his statue."
I send my eyes towards the people's cries. Hundreds of heads carrying flags of bills, jostling one
another, moving with their hearts down. Yes! They've paid for it.
I pull a shouter to my side. "Does water in your house pan boil? "
"No, today is this quota." The shouter shows me the flag of bill, held in his hand.
I move away from the scene, letting my heart shed tears.
Holding my heart heavily, I resume my journey.
"Hey, don't pull me down. I must get in to grab the bumper." A voice in the mob reaches my ears.
I throw my eyes at the direction. It's a huge shopping mall. The rich and the middle class customers scramble into the stuffed mall aggravating their co-hunters to grab the prey. No person in rags is seen in the vicinity of the mall.
I hear my own mind voice. "Every being is a mouse in the rat trap."
I slide down my perception.
"Throw into me huge money. If not, I'll bargain over the deal."
A great furore is enacted on the stage of politics.
"Hide your money or foolish citizens will tear our disguise."
"Where's the agent of the minister of politics? "
"He's waiting for the call from the politician squatting on the chair of the Government"
I perceive the dirty politicians' gimmicks.
"Let's play politics during the last rites of the warrior lying motionless on the stretcher. Our game is to grab the chair and swindle people's right."
I change my direction. I hang around a well-decorated building. The domes and towers on the top of the building catch the attention of the passer-by. People shrouded in velvet attires and in rag scramble into the building. It is a Roman Catholic group. Church organ raise high-pitch sounds subduing the words of God's Glory. My eyes catch sight of idols and paintings of Scriptural personalities. People are seen thronging about those idols and paintings. Shouts of worldly allurements are heard rather than praises of God's glory. The devotees are seen without the Word of God. Tradition plays a vital role.

I resume my journey. On my way, I look at another large building which too has domes and steeples on its top, but with less ornamentation. I set my feet at its threshold. I hear the sounds of church organ mixed with pastors' embossing harangues. Gold and platinum entice the eyes of one another. The Bible is seen in everyone's palms, looked with beautiful covers and with golden letters. Tradition with corruptible theology is perceived in the devotees' hearts. I step out of the threshold and continue my journey.

I walk by the side of a building totally whitewashed. On the walls in around the building I notice Scriptural Words printed on laminated boards. Thunderous drum beats and stormy vocals break the nerves of the brain. White-clad devotees and pastors are seen yelling with tears flowing down the cheeks. I perceive and feelings and emotions in display amongst the massive crowd.

I visit a handful of denominational sects on my way. In one or the other way, their services to the Eternal Father reflect the Will of the Father, but partly. Songs and sermons inspire the passers-by.
Yet, their preaching of The Word of God has their incomplete fullness of the Lord's Revelation of His Will.

I turn around on my way. I seek a voice in the wilderness. I enter the chamber of worship. No drums, no church organ, no shouts, no feelings, no emotions are felt inside the chamber. I stand awhile. I sit awhile. I listen to the Word of God preached. My heart rejoices.

Alas! Worldly skirmishes are not unseen amongst the gathering. Hidden transactions of the world and secret business dealings cannot escape in the world, and it is not uncommon amongst the congregation. A few packs of deviations stroll in the congregational minds.

Yet, I make up my mind. I shall not fall into the defective transactions, but shall be deeply-rooted in the Word of God, looking upon the ONE WHO has revealed HIMSELF as the LORD and CREATOR.

I begin to travel into myself. I resume my voyage deep into my heart sailing with the Word of God. I travel through ebbs and currents. I am bitten by a few predators. Yet, the Word of God heals and edifies my heart.

My voyage has its no ending till my last breath on the stage of this present life.