Ph: Faith: Paradox 101 Poem by Brian Johnston

The cities now razed and man's dreams carrion,
Our country, theirs, stench egalitarian,
In processing bodies, oh, just what was gained,
Victory is where, now the battle has waned?

To breathe air of vaporized souls, who would want?
Yet it seems like death is man's only détente,
Better perhaps to let dead bury the dead,
Dead sort through the plunder that explosives shed.

What city not built on bones of the saints?
What year was it when man lived with restraints?
What ground is not red, what soul not sold for swill,
Who has the deep pockets for paying the bill?

New evil for old used to make the Church sing,
With vengeance FOR GOD sure to cure everything,
But 'Vengeance is Mine' reads all Bibles (YES, YOURS!)
God's Grace covers all on His mystical tours.

His judgment, His judgment, Oh long may it reign,
On earth as in heaven, may that be our gain,
We don't understand yet but still it rings true,
That Christ's sacrifice also justifies you.