Piece by Piece

Silver and crimson opposing red and blue. Two leaders, one risen from poverty and disgrace, the other chosen in times of desperation. The death of one would not go without the loss of the other, so why do we wish the death of our opposing?

Ours, who is soft and silent, strong above us gives us strength when we have none. He points the way in which we will aim our guns and swing our swords, he says words and makes decisions. He is prideful, but we don’t see it as a sin.

Theirs, who is brave but broken, strong among them, they keep strength in themselves. He leads the way into battle, his arms raised high as he calls out their pain, he says plenty but feels more. He is sinful, but so are they.

What separates those as great as these leaders, makes them wish for the others destruction at their own hands? I ask of you.

“Do you know where the end is? Do you think you can see it?”