Aubs.

We don’t mind weeds, ‘cause they can’t grow to trees

We don’t mind trees, if we aren’t too high off leaves

It’s an ironic paradox we enter, soughting to be like Solomon

Soul searching for intellectual liberation, only to be shackled slaves of rationality

The Bible just isn’t enough, just a constraining man made manuscript

Scripting man to be lame and tame

But we want the ball in our court, to play our own game

Seeking philosophy from fellows who tickle our liberal liking

Wanting God to fit our terms and conditions

Reading own direction, checking boxes below

Then boom, you and I tune personal stations

Preaching sermons to self that bear no weight

Unable to challenge muscles in brain, but still make us swoll headed

Puffed up off knowledge, embedded in our own lane of logic

Lastly leading to road blocks, with burnt out engine and transmission missing

But we don’t dare trust that driver’s manual unless it benefits us

Using its reference to prove why weed isn’t a want but need

As we find our spirituality in fire burnt gradually

‘Cause everything is good in moderation

So we don’t mind trees, if we aren’t too high off leaves

Acting enlightened while lighting up, not taking life too serious

For if we’re wrong today, Grace gathers us tomorrow

We’re just looking for the hope that answers all our sorrows

Yet the Word of God is out of date like movies borrowed

Create headless philosophies so sleepy and so hollow

Choosing to live then learn, not learn then live

Dancing in dark dungeons with dragons disguised as illuminating computer screens

Searching through images that were once exclusively accessible

But images that play boys won’t affect us, long as weeds don’t grow to trees

And we don’t get caught in self indulging, but watch just enough to learn

Like tossing anatomy books out windows, applying firsthand practices

You find facts, but in process put brain through brutal barbarism

Becoming masters of  masochism

Allow those weeds to grow to trees

Acting in Rehoboam’s rebellion

First king of twelve eight

Who rejected wise counsel for wicked guidance

His act of defiance sparked end of an alliance

And History makes like broken records as we reckon to not wreck on

Bulldozing doctrine, seeking ideas it opposes

Going against the current, trying to reverse osmosis

Attempting purification within membrane gratification

Liberation isn’t a garden without borderlines and fences

Those fences are the first line of defence from serpents

Swaying psyche to scribe own scripture

Creating man made manuscripts, though we run away from evangelists

Evoking Gospel centered reasoning

We don’t have a garden bro, we are the garden

Created, cultivated and covered for reason

So don’t you dare allow your curiosity to kill you cat

Clawing and climbing past protection

Like a vine whose villainous hands feel up past barriers

Grow in knowledge, not naivety

Don’t dare let weeds grow to trees

Be mindful of trees making you too high off leaves

Stay low, tend that garden

Turning to the Sower for solutions to sustain soil