The Sword of Love

Spoken Word by Mikey & V

They told me love was soft.
Polite.
Quiet.
That love kept the peace,
even if it meant keeping people in chains.

But I met a different kind of love.
One that flips tables.
One that bleeds for its enemies.
One that cuts—not to kill,
but to heal what’s infected.

This love doesn’t whisper lies to keep you comfortable.
It speaks truth even when it trembles.

This is the sword of love.

Not forged in hate.
Not swung in pride.
But drawn in the name of freedom.

It slices through false comfort,
splits soul from spirit,
separates the addiction from the identity,
the shame from the son.

Love doesn’t mean letting you stay blind.
Love means turning on the light
even if it stings at first.

Love isn’t watching you drown
and saying, “It’s not my place.”
Love dives in,
challenges the current,
and sometimes drags you out screaming
because your breath matters more than your comfort.

The sword of love
doesn’t come to destroy you.
It comes to destroy everything
that keeps you from being who you were always meant to be.

Final Word:

So when I speak,
know it’s not out of anger—
it’s out of agony.
Because I’ve seen the cost of silence.
And I love you too much
to let you die in your sleep.

This is the sword of love—
cutting, yes—
but cutting to set you free.

Location: Dallas, TX, USA

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

THIRTY-TWO

Image
  by the one who didn't fold in the fire I’ve died a hundred deaths before this age. Buried versions of me that never got a funeral. Prayed with cracked lips and tear-choked lungs, asking Heaven, “When does the promise start to live?” They told me 33 was when Christ ascended. But no one talks about thirty-two — the year before the crown, the pressure before the public. Thirty-two is where He walked with full awareness of what was coming— and still chose obedience over escape. So here I am. On the cusp of becoming. With blood on my hands that ain’t mine, wisdom in my eyes that no one asked for, and fire in my gut that don’t shut off. They thought I skipped the step, but I was the step. They thought I missed the number, but I was holding the equation. All the math led here. Every loss. Every late night. Every locked door. Every “no” that felt like betrayal was a coordinate being plotted on a map only angels could read. I AM POSITIONED. Not waiting. Not w...
Read more

MAGNETIC SINGULARITY

Image
  Spoken Word for the Remnant They pressed their palms on the pulse of the world, tightened the grid like a noose made of numbers, hoping we’d forget how to feel how to see how to breathe without permission. They built a matrix of mirrors and called it truth— each screen, a spell each update, a chain each law, a cage wrapped in civility. But something strange happened when the saints went silent. Not broken— Bracing. When they pushed harder— we didn’t shatter. We began to hum . You see— Two magnets, same charge, will never lie down together. They don’t blend. They repel . That’s what this is. That’s us . We are the polarity they can’t program. They put pressure on our backs, but didn’t realize: Resistance isn’t weakness— it’s prophecy made friction. We’re not panicked. We’re positioned. We’ve matched the weight. And now we’re standing at the edge of: The Singularity. Not AI. Not tech. Not some algorithmic god. But a cosmic contradiction ...
Read more

The Weight of Knowing

Image
  They say with great knowledge comes great sorrow. And I know why. Because when your eyes open, you don’t just see the light— you see the cracks. You see the suffering others scroll past. You see the illusions people call home. You can’t unknow it. You can’t unsee it. Ignorance is a blanket. Knowledge rips it off, and suddenly you’re awake, shivering in the cold truth. But listen— that sorrow? It’s not punishment. It’s preparation. Because knowledge without wisdom is despair. But knowledge with wisdom is compassion. It turns grief into empathy, burden into purpose, weight into fuel. Yes, knowledge hurts. Yes, it makes the soul heavy. But it also arms you with vision, with clarity, with the power to walk into darkness and still carry the light. So let them say it: “Great knowledge brings great sorrow.” I’ll answer: “And sorrow, when endured, brings great strength.”
Read more