The First Wrong Step

I am not worried if I see a drunkard drunk and disorderly,
When he staggers and wobbles like an old automobile,
Or totter like an overstayed hut,
But when I see a man who has never touched that bewitching glass,
Take their first dart and begin his series of doomsday I tremble.

I am not worried when the queen of the night parades her merchandise,
Those ‘goods’ that cannot be sold in markets where the relatives shop,
But when I see an innocent soul make their novel entrance into the cesspool,
Declaring themselves open to a rendezvous of coquetry,
I Can’t help but mourn.

I am not worried when a renegade abrogates the secrets of our Camp,
And turns to be a stool pigeon,
Rocking the boat from within,
But when a diligent and faithful gladiator,
Begins swaying hither and thither,
Losing their moral vertebral column,
I am afraid, for we have lost a man.

When a corrupt and scandalous shouts, “I accept,”
That is nothing to worry about,
They do it all the time, and it seems to work for them,
But when a Daniel begins smiling at the flatter of the King’s abominable table,
Or a Joseph starts walking toward Mrs. Potiphar’s bosom,
Then who will stand?

If you have been dwelling in the lowlands,
Eating your own bread that gives everything but life,
Or cladding in your own apparel that the Sacred book declares filthy rags,
It is not a surprise if you do the same without a scruple,
But I am going to mourn when somebody takes an alluring turn to the valley of Sorek,
Because in that valley,
Delilah makes Nazarites bald,
Their eyes are gouged out,
And unless they meet the Man of Calvary,
The rest of their lives will be spent entertaining people going down the slope leading to the second resurrection!
The resurrection of damnation.