The Choice

There’s a choice to make
Every minute of every day--
To follow the straight path
Or to be led astray.

It’s a delicate choice
Hung like spun glass
On a thread from heaven
Calling us to ask

For a heart unbound
From the weight of sin,
For victory over the one
Who keeps us pinned

To the mat of our flesh
Though we inwardly cry
For truth and light,
For release from the lies.

There’s a choice to make
Threaded in free will--
To embrace the Giver of life
Or the taker, who kills.