We dream of ways to break these iron bars

My intent, my purpose, my hope for the world has nothing to do with me. Why do the leaders and the people involved label me as someone with my own agenda? The people that truly know me know that my intentions are pure. That my heart is my calling and my calling is to worship. Worship everything; walking, gazing at the clouds, floating in the night sky, feeling the bass rumble in my chest or the music make my heart race. If Jesus tore down these walls, why did we build these iron bars?

...and all I can see tonight is the half moon shining through the grey sky. The light reflects off these iron bars like a mirror. The concrete is my warden. When can I walk in peace with my brothers? The smell of the wet grass; how I long to exist outside in the rain, running all night long until the fire in my legs forces my hand. How did I get here? How can these jailers watch me suffer with such disdain in their eyes and yet the name of Jesus Christ rolls off of their tongues so easily. They walk around and announce, "Behold, God's light shines through me." This place is so dark.