The idols of the nations are silver and gold, the work of human hands. They have mouths, but do not speak; they have eyes, but do not see; they have ears, but do not hear, nor is there any breath in their mouths. Those who make them become like them, so do all who trust in them! (Psalm 135:15-18 ESV)
That glossy book of perdition in the hand evokes a dark emotion
The pulse intensifies Over a page that temporarily satisfies
A soul in need of more Despite the need within the core
This poisonous meal is consumed Unaware that he is truly doomed
Each page. Each image. Each bite. Creates a darkness darker than night.
Yet he presses on towards his prize The centerfold of forbidden fruit and lies.
A tall beauty never meant for his gaze Finally, the object of his praise
She smiles beautifully with luscious lips But she cannot speak his soul from the pits
She looks at him with eyes that pierce his soul Yet her image is blind, eyes dark as coal
“I’m a great listener” says her profile But she is deaf and he is in denial
On the page, her form and figure appear complete Yet she is lifeless and he is a cheat
He, too, has a mouth with which to speak Yet he is mute as his family falls over the peak
He has eyes to see the harm he brings Yet he is blind to the one on whose finger he placed rings
He has ears to hear the sounds of impending doom Yet he is deaf to the warnings that dangers loom
He is among the living, working and playing each day Yet he is lifeless, his soul in decay
Mute. Blind. Deaf. Lifeless. You become what you worship, image what you bless.