by thefoxdraws

We scream that we are good people,
But we have turned a blind eye
To the things that matter most.

And we are still blind.
Still crawling, still searching,
Still scratching at the floorboards
Of the dusty attic we claim to know.

And once we think we have found
We gnaw on it, congratulating ourselves
But scream when God points
The other way.

When will we see
That we cannot see
Without the light and the guidance
Of the only One who can?