Is this salvation? looks more like the barrel of a gun... when the smoke clears & all that's left is radio static and wrought iron fences... no rapturous hymnals, no golden words

No hope in hoping, only death and decay

Neither virtuous vision nor promise kept

We will walk the finest line drawn between heights unimagined & that which we fear

We'll stand at this precipice; can we take the leap? if we could see into our own eyes, our own lives, what would we do when the darkness confronts us? would we have the strength to change, to adapt, to grow?