I was pondering the circumstances of a young man sitting in an Indiana jail. My partner and I traveled there last night to interview him regarding some criminal activity in Michigan. As he sat there in tears fearing the sentence that awaited him, he said, "I don't want to live like this anymore, I have a daughter. I want to turn my life around." His drug habit was the motivation for the crimes he committed which ended him up in that cell. His story is that of so very many; pursuing happiness in things that cannot ultimately satisfy and that in the end bring destruction.
There is a way that seems right to a man, but its end is the way to death.
Locked here in this cell,
Locked up here in my heart.
This is not what I've planned,
This life is falling apart.
I've squandered and wasted,
I have no hope at all.
There's now no more options,
As I sit and stare at the wall.
What I've thought would bring happiness,
Was naught but a dream.
I was promised such pleasure.
Things are not what they seem.
Searching for meaning in the things that are here,
Has brought me to nothing.
These illusions of satisfaction have only filled me with fear,
That nothing can truly satisfy my heart.
Now what have I left after pursuing this disaster?
Like a bird caught in a trap have I fallen for the snare.
The lies I've believed are now my dungeon-master,
To keep me behind bars and these walls that are bare.
What hope could there be for one here like me,
Who has wasted his life on the brokest of pleasures?
Is it possible that my heart could ever be happy?
Could there be In this life any genuine Treasure?
- A. B. Seal
With much seductive speech she persuades him; with her smooth talk she compels him. All at once he follows her, as an ox goes to the slaughter, or as a stag is caught fast, till an arrow pierces its liver; as a bird rushes into a snare; he does not know that it will cost him his life.