Thursday, January 31, 2013

The Parable of the Walk


The Believer is likened unto a man who went for a walk.

He chose to pursue a worthy destination and carefully selected his path and pace. However, after setting out he forgot where he was headed, which path to take, and how rapidly to place his steps. He became distracted and enticed by wants and temptations that were not part of his walk. He allowed his mind to rest on the futile things of darkness. Soon he found himself tired and lost, walking alongside other wanderers on rough, steep, and dangerous ways.

Yet in his time of need a light in his heart awakened his spirit and he recalled the wise words often uttered to him by those who cared. These truths mercifully reminded him of his prior pursuit and he became grieved that he had abandoned his walk. All around him were unfamiliar faces and places and he wondered at how he had arrived here.
 
The man searched everywhere, asking, seeking and knocking on doors until he found the Teacher who called Himself the Way. The smile of His Lord and King beckoned him to follow. Secure on his chosen path again, he kept his eyes fixed on Jesus and his feet on the narrow way. Evermore he would strain towards his goal - not looking behind nor fretting - but actively learning by imitation, as a child does, how to walk uprightly.

Friday, January 18, 2013

Lost in Haze

If I could stand and watch the sky

So splendid in its motion smooth,

And soft within its billows high

To see the wonder of your love,

Then would I gaze for hours on end

To view the grand procession slow,

Observing that the birds pretend

A higher path they do not know

Though far beyond as you pass by

They linger long on sunny days,

Wishing for the wings to fly

To reach the summit lost in haze

And soar up there without a care,

The earth below a tiny field

Of flowers fading, once so fair,

For those who to the ground would yield

Forget there’s more than life down there.
 

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Hearts of Women


These hearts of women,
Blatantly colored,
Flash and shine
In the fashion of dance
As they give and offer,
Create and dream.

The hearts of women,
Made to fly freely,
Sing, and laugh
For the sake of lightness
Often grow heavier,
Misunderstood.

These hearts of women,
Callously broken,
Cry out and mourn
Like a jaded soldier
As they succumb to pain,
Scarred and let down.

The hearts of women,
Beautifully crafted,
Hold onto hope
In the form of potential
For love’s restoration,
Their fondest wish.

Monday, January 7, 2013

DYING

The dream lay dying
In a manner of neglect
As the crippled cry
Of clanging cymbals
Sounded its pretense
And love languished
Along the lavish illusion,
Hiding hungry hope.

The vision vanished,
Leaving lonely the language
Once spoken sweetly,
Now silent and slow
To recover reasons
For forming fondness
Within the voice once vivacious,
Now of negative note.

Will the wounded win?
Where and why does wonder wait?
A miracle maybe
Could curtail collapse
And daunt demolition
Eager and evil;
Possibility's promise
Healing hardened hearts.