Written October 2005
Said the leaf to the tree, "Must I turn this year?
I like being green
I like it right here."
Said the tree to the leaf, "I'm afraid that you must.
After all you were made
To turn colors of rust."
And then the tree said, "But I do understand.
I dislike being stripped
Of my many leaf-hands.
"I dislike being bared to the forces of harm
To the ice that will weigh down
And crack my strong arms."
"Then why do you let go?" the leaf asked the tree.
"Why don't you hold on
To leaf-hands like me?"
"I must learn to relinquish my outer facade
To be moulded and renewed
And strengthened by God."
"Okay," said the leaf with an insecure sigh.
"I'll try to let go
Oh, surely I'll try."
And so the leaf turned a bright, beautiful gold,
And fell to the ground
As the harsh wind blew cold.
The leaf that surrendered the things it held dear
Then nourished the soil
For beauty the next year.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Friday, May 09, 2008
A Spark
Written sometime in March '08 while in Western Classics class
A spark.
One.
One spark against the blanket night.
One spark on trampled grass.
One spark.
It glows, this spark,
Yet I tarry.
Do I need fire?
Or am I content
This cool spring eve
With my own jacket?
A fire.
A fire warms.
It blazes and rages.
It lights a view now hidden in dark.
It consumes and must be fed,
This fire.
My coat, though,
Is soft.
It holds out cold.
It holds me well.
Its arms on mine,
This coat.
Where to from here?
The spark flickers.
It dims.
Do I fan it?
Or let it burn out?
Perhaps a third:
Let us see whether the wind blows.
A spark.
One.
One spark against the blanket night.
One spark on trampled grass.
One spark.
It glows, this spark,
Yet I tarry.
Do I need fire?
Or am I content
This cool spring eve
With my own jacket?
A fire.
A fire warms.
It blazes and rages.
It lights a view now hidden in dark.
It consumes and must be fed,
This fire.
My coat, though,
Is soft.
It holds out cold.
It holds me well.
Its arms on mine,
This coat.
Where to from here?
The spark flickers.
It dims.
Do I fan it?
Or let it burn out?
Perhaps a third:
Let us see whether the wind blows.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Unfinished. Written 5/1/08.
O sweet Lord, that You would call me dear.
O dear Lord, that You would call me sweet!
Who shall stand in the Lord's holy presence?
He who has clean hands and a pure heart.
O precious Lord, wash my bloodstained hands!
Capture my wandering heart.
Make it as a twin to Your own.
Lift up your head, O gate of my soul;
Be lifted up, O door of my heart;
May the King of Glory enter here!
May all else fall away.
Though my mind may fail and my sight grow dim
The Lord God of hosts,
The Lord, strong and mighty,
The Lord, King of Glory,
He is my strength and my portion forever.
He has heard my cry, therefore I will hope in Him.
My soul will yet praise Him, my savior and my God.
Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Amen.
O sweet Lord, that You would call me dear.
O dear Lord, that You would call me sweet!
Who shall stand in the Lord's holy presence?
He who has clean hands and a pure heart.
O precious Lord, wash my bloodstained hands!
Capture my wandering heart.
Make it as a twin to Your own.
Lift up your head, O gate of my soul;
Be lifted up, O door of my heart;
May the King of Glory enter here!
May all else fall away.
Though my mind may fail and my sight grow dim
The Lord God of hosts,
The Lord, strong and mighty,
The Lord, King of Glory,
He is my strength and my portion forever.
He has heard my cry, therefore I will hope in Him.
My soul will yet praise Him, my savior and my God.
Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Amen.
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