Logistomai: The Fit Survive or the Savior Fits the Meek

The following piece is a raw, symphonic exploration of the friction between transcendent grace and human systems. Written in a dynamic, rhythmic style that blends the immediacy of modern spoken-word with deep-rooted Abrahamic and liturgical imagery, the text wrestles with the ultimate paradox: how an unconditional, disruptive love can suddenly lift an individual while the surrounding corporate and religious architectures demand a cold, transactional fitness. It is a real-time calculation (Logistomai) of risk, vulnerability, and systemic failure—ultimately pointing toward a loyalty that defies human understanding.

Logistomai: The Fit Survive or the Savior Fits the Meek

Why do I feel loved suddenly,

Though attacked on all sides?

Is it love? Or some magic I can name not?

Still I strive with all my might,

Though it's too low—perhaps, not fit.

Mesmerized me!

Was it a fairy tale, a short love story?

Consequential? Productive? Or counter productive?

My mind blows up... Logistomai... I calculate:

Was it a risk worth taking? Or, was it a lift breath taking?

I thought love qualified the unqualified—

True only in the Bible, though.

Everywhere else Darwin has his way:

I'm fit, so I survive!

I wanted to know the fitness they talk about:

Mental? Or e-Motional? Physically fit?

I thought I am, until I met the best of their lot.

They said a little more loss at the tummy will do more good, no harm.

I walk, I run,

But icecream, coke, and five-star have a different story to tell.

Mesmerized me!

Was it a fairy tale, a short love story?

Consequential? Productive? Or counter productive?

My mind blows up... Logistomai... I calculate:

Was it a risk worth taking? Or, was it a lift breath taking?

Where does love belong in all this?

Is it the strays I feed,

Or the pets they carry along to show their worth?

Is it the old destitute garbage man who needs money to meet his medical needs,

Who I honor as I can?

Or is it the new Roman, fearful excitement

That takes away my breath whenever I see her?

Perhaps all of it, and more—

Is it a weird blend of absurd care that defies understanding?

Life that flows, loyalty that manifests,

And to top it all, the love panic

That makes her find me before I go.

I am hungry, but food tastes yuck.

I am thirsty, but water I can't gulp.

Could sleep help?

I wake up a singing poet, I dream true dreams;

They scare at times, but soothe pain mostly.

Mesmerized me!

Was it a fairy tale, a short love story?

Consequential? Productive? Or counter productive?

My mind blows up... Logistomai... I calculate:

Was it a risk worth taking? Or, was it a lift breath taking?

They say the Bible is the only true love story:

Yahweh and his son wooing their bride, lovingly.

The old is in the new, but the new is fantastic;

The new is Jew-Gentile, one family, a boundary-breaking finality.

The bride price is heavy, and the son had to die to pay it.

Still, the thousand-fold aroma sweet makes it all worth it,

For, now, the son's life reflects in the bride perfectly—

Forgiven, Spirit-led, and in perfect harmony,

Glowing worms forming a light cloud

to enlighten the darkest night.

Different versions of the same story, argue some,

It also has factually incorrect information.

Is the Word still reliable?

I answer a counter question: Is love still reliable?

For the sum-total of the long winding Abrahamic story is living, loyal, long-suffering, long-lasting Love in 3:16.

Mesmerized me!

Was it a fairy tale, a short love story?

Consequential? Productive? Or counter productive?

My mind blows up... Logistomai... I calculate:

Was it a risk worth taking? Or, was it a lift breath taking?

But hardly do we untie the available colts and unite the loving ones.

It is so tough, no?

The churches are busy calculating tithes,

Casting nets, carving methods, and creating walls of hostilities:

Norms, ethics, ethnicities, heightened hyperbolic moralities.

Seeking the speck, straining the gnat,

While swallowing the Gimmel completely.

Mesmerized me!

Was it a fairy tale, a short love story?

Consequential? Productive? Or counter productive?

My mind blows up... Logistomai... I calculate:

Was it a risk worth taking? Or, was it a lift breath taking?

The small working models are not happening far and wide and deep.

The creation renewed is not showcasing the father-son love of self-giving sacrifice

For creation and creatures alike.

Neglecting the weak and washing hands conveniently,

The inside folks—they compare, they conspire, they collude

To do injustices to each other and people new.

Many left, some are left, and the leftover may also leave.

But God is still in their midst, this they believe

As they display their showmanship every week anew.

Mesmerized me!

Was it a fairy tale, a short love story?

Consequential? Productive? Or counter productive?

My mind blows up... Logistomai... I calculate:

Was it a risk worth taking? Or, was it a lift breath taking?

The main point is the Dubki Shower—it washes away all sins.

Jesus punished their sins in his body divine! No!

There's no condemnation anymore,

No matter if they are not merciful, meek, mourning comforters.

Ignoring the beggar and the hungry beasts, God justifies us still,

For that's the only work he has left to do as the High Priest.

Mesmerized me!

Was it a fairy tale, a short love story?

Consequential? Productive? Or counter productive?

My mind blows up... Logistomai... I calculate:

Was it a risk worth taking? Or, was it a lift breath taking?

Then, there are those who frame and blame the innocent seeker,

Until the person is exhausted and low.

Desperate, they leave the show asking:

Was the burden of norms bigger before or now?

If now, then why carry on the hypocrisy anymore?

The comfort offer works like the carrot and stick approach,

Or "you scratch our back and we will scratch yours too."

It's corporate logic that governs the old and new.

Darwin must thank God, for he was right all along!

The Savior wore a towel to wash his learners' feet,

To help them know how heaven speaks.

Today's saviors are busy finding faults

Instead of washing the learners' dirty feet.

Mesmerized me!

Was it a fairy tale, a short love story?

Consequential? Productive? Or counter productive?

My mind blows up... Logistomai... I calculate:

Was it a risk worth taking? Or, was it a lift breath taking?

They do not peep into Peter's passion to hold on till the end,

Nor do they lift him from the deep.

If not him, others can do the same work—what's the big deal?

No tight hugs to uplift the hurt, no embraces warm and clean.

The ship is sinking, but they cannot see.

Busy to find the Prophet deep in his sleep to wake him up,

They shake up things,

But can't see why it sank and keeps on sinking,

Even if he warns night and day.

Mesmerized me!

Was it a fairy tale, a short love story?

Consequential? Productive? Or counter productive?

My mind blows up... Logistomai... I calculate:

Was it a risk worth taking? Or, was it a lift breath taking?

Disclaimer: This poem is a work of artistic and metaphorical expression. The critiques, institutions, and characters depicted within are symbolic archetypes chosen to illustrate broader philosophical and theological tensions. Any semblance to specific living individuals, real-world ecclesiastical figures, or modern organizational entities is entirely co-incidental and unintended.