I wrote this poem as a bit of a cautionary tale recently as I was meditating on the idea of us having to choose between two masters. We either choose Christ as our Lord and Savior or we (whether intentionally or unintentionally) choose to serve Satan by way of running after sinful desires and running from God. You may think you're pursuing pleasure and fulfillment by forsaking God and what you perceive as a joyless life, but there is a sweetness and incomparable joy and peace that comes with choosing to follow Christ and accept his payment for your sins. I hope y'all enjoy it!
When my master arrived, my soul was alight.
I’d sworn on my life that I’d chosen right.
He shone with beauty beyond imagination,
His rosy lips always upturned in flirtation.
His words were like honey and sweet to my ears.
I’d longed to be with him for so many years.
As for my twin, she too had been claimed
By a master less comely and tragically maimed.
Nothing about him seemed special at all,
And yet she still loved him and heeded his call.
Though his words often stung and pierced her poor soul,
She swore his correction had helped make her whole.
Disgust filled my heart, so I turned in dismay
To gaze at my master who’d take me away.
As my sister showed devotion without compare
And seized hers with gladness — no sign of despair.
Away we twins went when that fateful day dawned.
As the hours passed by, I stumbled and yawned.
When I entered the land of my chosen king
I noticed a strange and perplexing thing.
Dread, sorrow, and fear inundated my soul
As if my every transgression was taking its toll.
The sun’s radiant rays burned my delicate skin,
And at once my ears filled with a distressing din
Of weeping and gnashing, of moans and sighs.
Immediately tears stung and burned my poor eyes.
With a rident grin of unnerving elation,
My master walked me to my new home and station.
Placing a pack on my back and an axe in my hand,
He told me to pick at the unyielding land.
Once I softened the ground with my toilsome deed,
My next task was to plant a terrible seed.
Not smooth or round like the ones back home,
Torns protruded from the tiny black dome.
For my seed to grow, it couldn’t stay dry.
It needed my tears. I would have to cry.
Telling me that I would need great inspiration.
He leaned in and whispered with cruel jubilation.
“Your dear sister is working for her master too,
But she chose incredibly differently from you.
The same sun shines upon her lovely brow,
But she won’t burn and perspire as you do now.
She’s in a garden from whence I was expelled
Full of beauty and joy like you’ve never beheld.
The ground where she digs is soft indeed,
And the seeds that she plants won’t make her hands bleed.
Cool rain waters hers from the heavens above.
Because tears never come from a woman so loved.
From that seed will sprout a beautiful bloom
That she’ll merrily give to her bridegroom.
Seeing his devotion and joy will multiply hers
But you, my dear, shall sow and reap burs.”
With a smirk on his lips and scorn in his eyes,
My master became someone I truly despised.
But I couldn’t speak as he strolled away.
Nor could I keep my hot tears at bay.
I hacked at the ground and wailed aloud.
Despair enveloped me like an oppressive dark shroud.
I cried without ceasing, I thought I would drown,
But my burning tears never softened the ground.
When weeks later I made a hole for my seed,
I knelt on my knees and did the dark deed.
Thorns from the seed pricked each calloused finger.
Self-hate and regret in my heart always lingered.
I planted the scourge, hands covered in blood.
Remembering my twin, tears rushed like a flood.
Though I’d found him fair, my master had lied.
The hope his deceit brought had withered and died.
I thought I’d found pleasure and freedom anew,
But I’d been so blind, and my judgment askew.
As the parched ground drank up all of my tears,
I remembered our sister, not as advanced in her years.
The little one had listened to our every word.
Of both our masters she’d constantly heard.
I wished in my heart, which had lost all its joy,
That she would see through my master’s great ploy.
The ease and pleasure he’d promised each day
Served only to lure in his foolish new prey.
Behind his great splendor and alluring smile
He was incomparably dark, dishonest, and vile.
His greatest delight was in my constant pain,
But all the tears I’d cry would be completely in vain.
Because nothing would ever comfort me
Like my twin sister’s master who had hung on a tree.