His fall

He fell
And rose
And fell
 and rose
And fell
          and rose
Till no strength left
He laid down and refuse to rise.
But this time, help is given.
He's too broken to be mended
Or, so he thinks.
 He crawled far and rolled into a river
He struggled to be balanced on a flowing debris till he reached the heart of the water
He let go the debris
The wave tossed him around
He's too resolute to repent
Help stretched his lifeline
He watched as it passed across
Too late to change his mind
He's prepared
"No point going back; we'll all be gone someday"
Till he became turbid and off he passed to yonder
No one could tell why
No one knew why
All that circulated was that he is a weakling
"God will send him to hell for taking his life"
But while he fell, all scorned him
When he fell, all were too busy "correcting" him
The few that knew he needed to be drawn up were too busy to do that
At the time Help was ready, he was too resolute to see if Help really cared or he's just one of the "correctors"
And that was how we lost our dearly beloved Trust, left drowned in the river of uncertainty.
His survivors remain scared to let men see them for who they are.
They wander around in the cloak of hypocrisy and eye service.