This poem burned in my heart and mind last night after a conversation with a friend. The world is such a messed up place. It makes me sick at times, the wrongness of it all, how those that should love someone the most can become so cold-hearted as to not care if that person thinks about ending themselves. A chilling reflection of Matthew 24:12--"The love of most will grow cold."

Half the time, I don't think this world recognizes love anymore, wouldn't know it if it were slapped in the face with it. This world's cheap counterfeit of love saddens me. And how cheaply some treat real love grieves and angers me. (Yes, I get angry, though it's about as common as snow in Texas.) They don't realize how rare and precious a thing love is. Maybe they never will; that would be kinder or crueler than realizing after they've set it ablaze, depending on the perspective.

That rare anger and sense of injustice (passion! that's the word for it) lit a fire in my chest that refused to be tamed or smothered until I set word to page. I held it off until my lunch break today. I've never had that burning desire to compose something carry on past sleep before. This one is special, I think.

When did love grow so cold

That it chased a child away from home?

When did love grow so old

That it was put out to pasture?

When did love become something

To trade up or trade in?

When did it start transforming

Into bitter resentment?

When did it become easier

To walk away than stand and fight,

To scrap it all and try again

Instead of trying to make things right?

When did love grow so inconvenient

That people would rather pull the plug?

When did love grow so selfish

That it would sacrifice another?

When did love start to hurt

Those it should protect?

When did it stop being a light

To guide home the lost,

To reach out to the broken

Raise the hopeless and weary

To comfort the mourning

Unite the divided and wary?

When did love become so callous

That it took what it wanted?

When did love become a curse

That left hearts bleeding and broken?

When did love become an excuse

To cover greed and poor judgement?

When did it stop giving

Life, safety, and support,

Encouragement to grow,

Warmth and welcome,

Help in a time of need,

Comfort and stability?

How long? How long

Until justice is dealt?

How long? How long

Until wrong is made right?

How long? How long

Until love is restored?

Lord, forgive them that grieve You, for they know not what they do. If seeing twisted and debased love bothers me this much, how much more must it drive You to action?

That fire in my heart and soul is still there, banked by poetry written, but still smoldering. I'm not sure what I'm meant to do with it now.