COBWEBS

The cobwebs are many,
Sticky and determined
They secure the unused in place,
Skillfully trapping the haunted
Reminders of what has been.

Covered in tendrils elusive,
Forgotten but not removed,
They beg restoration
Like a dusty cathedral’s
Glass stained with memories.

Guarded by the subtle ward
They remain untempting
Yet in time we are drawn in
By the need to cleanse
And discover anew the forsaken.

The Honest Truth

How we work the honest truth,
Shaping and conforming it
As with mindful carver’s tools
Until it looks appealing to the eye,
The lust of which is satisfied
As the conscience rests, appeased
By reason’s creativity.

We sculpt our rationalizations
So carefully, turning them over
In our manipulative hands
While regarding their beauty,
So pleasant to behold
In the light of our own will,
Even worth taking pride in.

We sell these imitations,
Using borrowed words to justify
Obvious differences in character,
Crafting our justifications lengthy
And spitting in the silent face
Of the one and only artist,
Smugly closed to His critique.

THE CHASM

Where are you while I wander
Into the wilderness
Of my own making?
Do you see it too,
The stark creation
Of imagination
With so little to show?

If I were lost here nomadic,
Would you leave me be
Or pursue and rescue?
The plain is barren and rugged,
Sharp on the feet
That do not preach
The gospel of peace.

Here there is no one to listen;
Seclusion feels familiar
In the chasm of thought,
Incapable of getting across -
Such that when I call out
To the dust and clouds
Even you do not answer.

I would shut and lock the gates
If only that would stop me
From coming here again
To search for that which was lost
Before hope betrayed,
When dreams became lies
For the foolish at heart.

Seasons

Soon enough, when winter comes
The fiery eyes of flames aglow
Will search our hearts for hope anew,
Emblazoned as a smile upon
The frozen lips that formed too few -
Through gray and ashen seasons
With the fruitless slow to learn,
Wisdom’s warmth by grief was earned.

And you will play
And I will sing
Of warmer, more endearing things
Then what we’ve burned
In summers passed
In place of Springtime’s fatted calf.

And soon we will return again
To till the fallow ground,
Enlist reward for standing firm
Among the lost and proud -
We’ll share with one another
What the harvest does reveal,
And teach the young a better way
With music’s fond appeal.

And you will play
And I will sing
Of warmer, more endearing things
Then what we’ve burned
In summers passed
In place of Springtime’s fatted calf.

Supposition

Suppose I were to take you at your word,
Shout at the mountains immovable,
Focus my concentration like a glass
Narrowing the light to spark
Then watching for the burst of fire,
Expecting its imminence,
Willing it to consume
Every unworthy doubt
Until that which remains
In place of the giant
Is sanctified victory,
Faith's reward manifest,
The triumph of belief over reason
And destiny's golden path laid out
Before my astonished eyes
As it all comes into focus,
The apparition of the impossible removed.

Dilemma

I'd want to fall in love with you

But then I'd want for nothing else

And wanting's good for human souls

Because we seek to want much less

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I'd need you in my every hour

But then I'd need to cling too much

And you need servants more secure

To reach the needy they don't know

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I'd give you every bit of me

But you're the one who gave it first

And how can I give what you own

Except the giving takes from yours

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I'd live to always be with you

But you live everywhere it seems

Your spirit lives inside of us

That we might choose not death but life

UNSPOKEN

Unspoken truth -
Rendered powerless,
Unspoken lies -
Better off dead.
Unspoken emotion,
Bitter like poison,
Clouds the thoughts
Fixed in my head.

Unspoken opinion -
Neutrally lost,
Unspoken fact -
Far too rare.
Unspoken need
Constructs a trap for
Disappointment’s
Grand affair.

Unspoken worry -
Self-multiplying,
Unspoken hatred -
Hardens the heart.
Unspoken love
Must be the worst sin
I have committed
Of all these, by far.

Empty Words

Your words are empty
As white-washed tombs,
Rote responses
Designed to placate or flatter,
Meaningless and insincere
They ease from your lips.

Your words, repeated
As to the deaf,
Cue cards all,
Spoken to patronize and subdue,
Haughty and pretentious
They speak not your heart.

Your words are placed
As guards for you,
Stick figures,
Sentries preventing conflict
Costly and precluding
Real communication.

Searching

I'm always looking for you
And then sometimes you are there,
The very thing I've looked beyond,
Around, and through before -
Which causes me to wonder
If you've been there all along
And it's me who has forgotten
That it's right where you belong.

Found

If you want to find me,
I'll tell you where I hide,
Behind the rugged cross of Christ
And in the place His grace resides,
For here is love made perfect
Where all fear is cast aside
And the spirit's yearning to be known
Is wholly satisfied.

If you want to know me,
This is where I am at heart,
Within the body, laying down
Our lives and lies the world imparts,
For herein love is made complete
That He would die for souls like ours
And set us free to be at peace
While safe within His arms.