Something written

I remember something written, it was a while ago.

A kind of contradiction, from what they used to know.

It told of a doorway, a secret one within,

That lead us out of turmoil, to a life with him.

Now, there's always opposition.

King of pride is his name.

First he sears the conscience, then controls the brain,

From there he moves into the heart,

And sends the world insane.

But the word is truth.

In him we must bow.

O, the joy of deliverance,

Find the door, now.