A couple nights ago (6/30/07), I was in a little bit of a poetry-writing mood. Perhaps rather, I was in a little bit of a defeated and discouraged mood, and this outflow of poetry is what resulted. This first one reflects my feelings of failure in my spiritual walk at times. I want to be a reflection of Christ and be disciplined to do His will, but often I act like the exact opposite. I feel my lack of will to act makes me no better than His enemies. Hope is never lost, but obvious reason to hope often feels distant. I find comfort in times when there is no apparent reason to hope, because there is always hope in Him.
June 30, 2007
Why don't I listen to the crying Savior? I witnessed His messy wounds, a bleeding heart, Yet my hasty actions and selfish ploys Speak for His death, uttering relicas Of a then hateful Sanhedrin, stirring up the hateful crowd. Life flies by and iron shields the glistening clouds. Fire by night and cloud by day, Yet I cannot break the fetters of eternal blight; My wings not fit to kiss the sky or shove the wind. Who folded up the grandeur, the intimate steps and whisker tips in time? Is the clock my darkest foe? How has it all been exchanged for "All days bright except tomorrow"?
What can be done to make good use of my unopened toolbox? Who told me I could not succeed? Why did I believe him? Lost in messy toil. Lacking fire. Unfit for life. Sought but lost. Alone in a crowd of self. Dusty, unopened book on tilted shelf. Savior, hear my silent plea. Must I build a hill from hardened tears? Elevate my hope. Let my lips be heard uttering replicas of You.