One Man

I hear you talk, I hear what you say,
and I carry the weight of it all through the day.
You tell many lies,
but truth never flies
to those who have chosen to look the other way.

I see that you worship only one man.
You dress him as Jesus,
but that was your plan,
for the only one worthy, in your crooked view,
has always been you.

I know this is true.
I feel it each day
as you carve your name deep in whatever you can,
till we’re battered and bruised by the force of your hand.
What a pitiful thing
for the whole world to see,
you still begging for worship,
too blind to believe
that the laughter around you
is not born of praise,
but for one painted clown
lost inside his own gaze.

—Bryan Brouwer