diluted

Think on why
You who
Would try
To be
Known as
Ones who
Know Me,
Can read
My words
And interpret
These things,
Why have
You become
So familiar
With Me?
Is it
Because of
Your great intimacy,
That you
Make jokes,
Have fun
Misquoting Me,
Attributing,
In your mirth,
Things never
Said by Me,
In your head
Deriving stories
Of what
Might have been
And passing
On your deception
To innocents?
They think
You know Me
And laugh,
But then
You make them
As far
From holy
As you
Were when
Truth became
Less than.
Interesting
How you
Cannot, friend,
Relay to them
The seriousness
Of holy.
Friend?
Stop replacing
My holy word
With your
Foolishness.
I am jealous
For my word
But you know
That, friend,
Or else
You wouldn’t
Attempt
To spice it up
For innocents.
Let their
Father
Feed them.
Wield the spoon,
Not your
Editor’s pen.
Mine cannot
Be rewritten.