The Saboteur Was Sitting
The saboteur sits grinning in my chest,
Mocking my faith, saying, “You’ll fail this test.
Your prayers are dust, your efforts a lie,
Your ladder is broken, don’t even try.”
He sharpens his tongue like a rusted blade,
Carves doubt in my soul where trust was laid.
He cackles, “Your friends will stumble too—
Why fight for them? They’re nothing to you.”
I spit blood back, though my strength is thin,
I drag my heart where the war begins.
Each thought is a knife, each breath a scream,
But still I cling to the shattered dream.
“Above reason,” I shout through choking fire,
“In this ruin burns the one desire—
To bind with my brothers, to annul this ‘I,’
To find the Creator, though He seems to deny.”
The saboteur shatters, his laughter fades,
For love has a sword no darkness degrades.
Hand in hand with the Ten, we rise above,
From brutal despair to unending love.
