Today I sit, and try to play your song.
It drags its feet. The tune is weak.
The words all come out wrong.
Because it isn't mine,
It falls and limps along.
God gave you knowledge, gifts...
I waited.
Gave you mercy, love...
Breath bated
Finally you sang and played…
Your songs were full of sorrow, grief,
Loneliness and desperation.
Nothing that could heal or comfort,
Death in place of consecration.
He gave you one more gift,
the best
That He can give to man.
You grabbed a hammer, let it fall...
And crushed your hands
So here I sit, and sing this song.
I pray, I wait, I grieve
Through tears.
And I will try to play your song
Until you're ready.
Even though I wait for all my years.
"No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the Continent, a part of the main; if a Clod be washed away by the Sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a Promontory were, as well as if a Manor of thy friends or of thine own were; any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee." - John Donne
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Saturday, April 7, 2012
I May Not See
I may not see the sun tomorrow morning.
The clouds tonight are heavy, dark and deep.
But even if it’s only in the heavens,
And though the bulging, thundering skies may weep,
There will be a dawn.
For the clouds will still be lit with gold
Even if I, on the earth, below the rain,
Am cold.
All nature will awaken;
The night will still be shattered,
And the ground be shaken.
Though my eyes, my mind, my body
May be trapped here on this world,
My soul, my spirit, cries
With a thousand thundering angels,
Wings unfurled,
As His glory lights the skies.
HE IS RISEN!
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