The Ultimate High Poem by Bill Cantrell

Of all the elixirs that have been placed in my path,
Even those with ball and chain,
In the fine print,
They came with a price
In the natural order of things,
This would by no means be the case
They all whisper their warm breath across my ears,
Giving me chills of intoxicating trailers
Magnetized to my imperfections,
They quickly fuse my desires,
Chanting, instant gratification for release
Pain shrinks from a mountain,
To a grain of sand in the hourglass of the predator,
Finally cast in the wind,
To be carried from one storm,
To the next!
Yet,
My God is my savior
He sends me blue skies,
His clouds form figures of mercy
He is closely looking for the broken ones,
Yes, for those who are not content with false escapes
From the concrete jungles of hate,
He causes wells to burst forth,
With life giving waters of hope
His day is panting as it comes to its climax
Why have the wicked sprouted as the vegetation of the field?
Why is it that hearts are polarized into pathetically selfish Ideologies?
When gender is decided on the basis of political professors of perversions,
It is in order that they may serve as an everlasting example of total failure!
The righteous will look back and will gladly see that justice has been served,
Not with a happiness of their demise,
For with love they were warned,
With kindness, God patiently sent his messengers
They vehemently refused to even consider the possibility,
That they might be wrong
My god,
Yes, the only true poet is my hope,
If my name makes the book of life,
Or not,
Then so be it
Either way,
I count myself fortunate and blessed,
To have been exposed to the ultimate high,
That being your truth