The following letter was written by a young pastor in Zimbabwe who was later martyred for his faith, taken from the book The Signature of Jesus by Brennan Manning:
I'm part of the fellowship of the unashamed. I have the Holy Spirit power. The die has been cast. I have stepped over the line. The decision has been made--I'm a disciple of his. I won't look back, let up, slow down, back away, or be still. My past is redeemed, my present makes sense, my future is secure. I'm finished and done with love living, sight walking, smooth knees, colorless dreams, tamed visions, worldly talking, cheap giving and dwarfed goals.
I no longer need preeminence, prosperity, position, promotions, plaudits, or popularity. I don't have to be right, first tops, recognized, praised, regarded, or rewarded. I now live by faith, lean on his presence, walk by patience, am uplifted by prayer, and labor with power.
My face is set, my gait is fast, my goal is heaven, my road is narrow, my way is rough, my companions are few, my Guide is reliable, my mission is clear. I cannot be bough, compromised, detoured, lured away, turned back, deluded, or delayed. I will not flinch in the face of sacrifice, hesitate in the presence of the enemy, pander at the pool of popularity, or meander in the maze of mediocrity.
I won't give up, shut up, or let up until I have stayed up, stored up, prayed up, paid up, preached up for the cause of Christ. I am a disciple of Jesus. I must keep going until he comes, give until I drop, preach until all know, and work until he stops me. And, when he comes for his own, he will have no problem recognizing me. My banner will be clear.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Recent Quotes
"I don't know what the big deal is: 2,000 years ago, everyone was wearing dresses."
--Eddie, in a class discussion of gender issues
"I can't hear you, I've got pepper in my teeth."
--Josh
"Basically all John Donne was trying to do was to get in her petticoats."
--Me, about Donne's poem "The Flea"
--Eddie, in a class discussion of gender issues
"I can't hear you, I've got pepper in my teeth."
--Josh
"Basically all John Donne was trying to do was to get in her petticoats."
--Me, about Donne's poem "The Flea"
Monday, February 23, 2009
Perilous Sympathy
"It is perilously easy to have amazing sympathy with God's truth and remain in sin."
-- Oswald Chambers
Oh, how easy it is.
-- Oswald Chambers
Oh, how easy it is.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Am I Fighting the Good Fight?
"There are people in the Christian church, even real Christians I daresay, who hardly ever fight the good fight of faith. They have no scars to show that they have fought their master's battles. They never slept in their clothes with their swords at their sides. They are strangers to the struggle that other Christians know so well. Ask them how to fight your battles with sinful desires that war against your soul and they will give you a blank stare in return. They don't know what you are talking about. They do not know what it is to be weary of watching for the Lord, of lifting their eyes to the hills from whence comes their help. The Devil has seldom troubled them because they aren't worth the effort."
--Robert S. Rayburn
--Robert S. Rayburn
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Down With Joel Osteen
While the title to this is very obviously pointing at someone else, one of the most moving things about it was that it slapped me in the face just as powerfully as I hope it would those that perpetuate the health and wealth 'gospel,' and as I hope it will you.
So check it out, John Piper powerfully contradicts the prosperity, "health and wealth" Gospel:
So check it out, John Piper powerfully contradicts the prosperity, "health and wealth" Gospel:
The Despair of Unbelief
"Our minds, which are even now only just awakening after years of materialism, are infected with the despair of unbelief. The nightmare of materialism, which has turned the life of the universe into an evil, useless game, is not yet past; it holds the awakening soul in it's grasp."
--Wassily Kandinsky
I have come to the realization that I am the owner of a hardened heart. And not in the "Oh yes, T.J., everyone has a hardened heart" sense, I'm realizing it's more along the lines of the "God gave them over to their sins," nigh on unrepentant hardened heart. Essentially what this means is that I need to stop making excuses and start loving Jesus.
I have fallen into the same cycle of ridiculous actions, all the direct results of my like of belief:
This is where my belief fails. I have a "mere perception" of all of the above things, I have speculated and participated in "distant argumentation" of each of these things, but none of them are real to me. Just as if I was arguing that Britain exists...sure, there's a logical progression to arrive at that conclusion, but I've never experienced it, which limits my belief.
I look at what I thought I believed for all these years, what I thought I had 'down pat,' and wonder, like the older prodigal son, why I don't get to experience the grandeur that my brother does. Forgetting, ridiculously, that I have always had access to the Father and his blessings.
So now, the Father has extended his invitation to come into the 'party,' into his blessings, into his glory...what will I do?
--Wassily Kandinsky
I have come to the realization that I am the owner of a hardened heart. And not in the "Oh yes, T.J., everyone has a hardened heart" sense, I'm realizing it's more along the lines of the "God gave them over to their sins," nigh on unrepentant hardened heart. Essentially what this means is that I need to stop making excuses and start loving Jesus.
I have fallen into the same cycle of ridiculous actions, all the direct results of my like of belief:
- I do not pray, because I do not believe that my prayer will be effective.
- I do not love, because I do not believe that God loves me.
- I do not show grace, because I do not believe that I need God's grace.
- I do not follow God [and in turn follow various, numerous idols] because I do not believe that God will satisfy my every need.
This is where my belief fails. I have a "mere perception" of all of the above things, I have speculated and participated in "distant argumentation" of each of these things, but none of them are real to me. Just as if I was arguing that Britain exists...sure, there's a logical progression to arrive at that conclusion, but I've never experienced it, which limits my belief.
I look at what I thought I believed for all these years, what I thought I had 'down pat,' and wonder, like the older prodigal son, why I don't get to experience the grandeur that my brother does. Forgetting, ridiculously, that I have always had access to the Father and his blessings.
So now, the Father has extended his invitation to come into the 'party,' into his blessings, into his glory...what will I do?
Monday, February 16, 2009
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Swimming Lessons
"The mathematician goes mad, not the poet, because the mathematician tries to build a bridge across the infinite when the poet can swim in the sea."
--Donald Miller
The poet can swim in the sea of the infinite...
Real, lasting, good poetry does this, deals with the infinite, is soaked full of it. Likewise is the poet: because his subject, his medium is contained in and deals primarily with things of infinite value, he is granted or learns or obtains the ability to dive headlong into the infinite and delve in and around, to wander and wallow and "swim" in it.
And not just the poet, but included in that title are artists of all forms.
Now, this is not to say that the mathematician is barred from participation in the infinite, but to do so he must abandon his attempts to circumvent or overcome the infinite.
Either that, or he must connect or incorporate the infinite into his activities. He must give up the bridge in favor of, say, a boat, or a bridge that runs just under the surface, something that finds the infinite in his own work, or sends his work into the infinite.
Or perhaps he could build a platform on which to rest after a swim in the infinite, for doing so is a wearisome task.
--Donald Miller
The poet can swim in the sea of the infinite...
Real, lasting, good poetry does this, deals with the infinite, is soaked full of it. Likewise is the poet: because his subject, his medium is contained in and deals primarily with things of infinite value, he is granted or learns or obtains the ability to dive headlong into the infinite and delve in and around, to wander and wallow and "swim" in it.
And not just the poet, but included in that title are artists of all forms.
Now, this is not to say that the mathematician is barred from participation in the infinite, but to do so he must abandon his attempts to circumvent or overcome the infinite.
Either that, or he must connect or incorporate the infinite into his activities. He must give up the bridge in favor of, say, a boat, or a bridge that runs just under the surface, something that finds the infinite in his own work, or sends his work into the infinite.
Or perhaps he could build a platform on which to rest after a swim in the infinite, for doing so is a wearisome task.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
It Should Be
"Just because it is, doesn't mean it should be."
--from Australia
This statement, while somewhat trite and almost undoubtedly stated before in some much more articulate manner, struck me again tonight. Not in a huge way, as some poetic, spiritual, or meaningful statements normally do, but in a more subtle, reaffirmation sort of way.
The idea of the current state in contrast with the desired or "should be" state is something that radiates from the core of human existence. While we will very often come to different conclusions as to what the "should be" should be, every human can agree that things are not as they should be.
So often we look at the "is" and discount the "should" as unattainable, or not worth the time and effort it would take to attain. Either that, or we'll overlook what is and simply accept it, not even attempting to examine the justice of the status quo, content to tolerate the way things are without as much as a second guess.
As a believer, my entire existence is about looking at the "is," and realizing that it is not as it should be. This can range from the simple knowledge of the fact that this life, what is right now, is not as it should be, but what should be is just around the corner in glory. Or it can mean looking around me into the brokenness of the world and my own heart and using the life and love and grace God has given me to bring order and life and love and grace to it.
--from Australia
This statement, while somewhat trite and almost undoubtedly stated before in some much more articulate manner, struck me again tonight. Not in a huge way, as some poetic, spiritual, or meaningful statements normally do, but in a more subtle, reaffirmation sort of way.
The idea of the current state in contrast with the desired or "should be" state is something that radiates from the core of human existence. While we will very often come to different conclusions as to what the "should be" should be, every human can agree that things are not as they should be.
So often we look at the "is" and discount the "should" as unattainable, or not worth the time and effort it would take to attain. Either that, or we'll overlook what is and simply accept it, not even attempting to examine the justice of the status quo, content to tolerate the way things are without as much as a second guess.
As a believer, my entire existence is about looking at the "is," and realizing that it is not as it should be. This can range from the simple knowledge of the fact that this life, what is right now, is not as it should be, but what should be is just around the corner in glory. Or it can mean looking around me into the brokenness of the world and my own heart and using the life and love and grace God has given me to bring order and life and love and grace to it.
Set Before Us
This one was a straight-up prayer to God. It's passionate and therefore powerful.
"Set Before Us"
O to talk to You, to walk with You!
God I thought I’d been walking with You for quite some time,
But now I’m convinced it’s been little more than baby steps; a crawl if at all.
How can I move forward if I keep setting tripwires and minefields for myself?
I want to run the race marked out,
To persevere until the end,
But when You’ve been knocked down as many times as me,
To see that end-of-tunnel light is only growing more difficult each night.
These set-backing knock-downs haven’t even been powerful pushes:
Light breezy gusts of stupid, un-sated, petty desires
That have blown my chaff-like heart off course:
Here and there, to and fro; places I never intended to go.
But lo and behold, truly truly I say to You!
I am stuck in the muck and filth of my heart,
I need a brand new start in this eternal race!
Faith hasn’t been mine for quite some time.
I’ve sought salvation and satisfaction in plenty of petty idols.
Truth be told my soul is in a hole like Sheol: Dark, and damp.
God please be my all powerful, eternal, faithful lamp
And guide my baby steps into strides
On the race that my pace may increase
Until at last I see Your face, in that glorious place.
God take my depravity,
I need help to break free from the weight of sin inside of me.
Help me not shirk my responsibility,
But take my best, take my worst,
Give me a marathon runner’s thirst,
For You.
"Set Before Us"
O to talk to You, to walk with You!
God I thought I’d been walking with You for quite some time,
But now I’m convinced it’s been little more than baby steps; a crawl if at all.
How can I move forward if I keep setting tripwires and minefields for myself?
I want to run the race marked out,
To persevere until the end,
But when You’ve been knocked down as many times as me,
To see that end-of-tunnel light is only growing more difficult each night.
These set-backing knock-downs haven’t even been powerful pushes:
Light breezy gusts of stupid, un-sated, petty desires
That have blown my chaff-like heart off course:
Here and there, to and fro; places I never intended to go.
But lo and behold, truly truly I say to You!
I am stuck in the muck and filth of my heart,
I need a brand new start in this eternal race!
Faith hasn’t been mine for quite some time.
I’ve sought salvation and satisfaction in plenty of petty idols.
Truth be told my soul is in a hole like Sheol: Dark, and damp.
God please be my all powerful, eternal, faithful lamp
And guide my baby steps into strides
On the race that my pace may increase
Until at last I see Your face, in that glorious place.
God take my depravity,
I need help to break free from the weight of sin inside of me.
Help me not shirk my responsibility,
But take my best, take my worst,
Give me a marathon runner’s thirst,
For You.
Friday, February 6, 2009
The Love of My Life
I went to see a dance performance tonight, not normally my cup of tea, but it was amazing. As a poet, I highly appreciated the artistry and metaphor and symbolism it contained. Quite amazing.
Now, as result of noticing the above qualities, and the simple fact that I look for and normally find metaphor and poetry in just about everything, I came to the conclusion that the love of my life, or just about anyone I was to love romantically for a long period of time, would have to be able to do something similar.
Either she would need to be able to recognize it herself, just like I do, or she would have to at least genuinely appreciate it whenever I got excited about it. I find myself often, repeatedly, perpetually echoing the desire of the speaker in The Postal Service's song "Clark Gable":
"I want so badly to believe that 'there is truth, that love is real,' and I want life in every word to the extent that it's absurd."
That is literally what I want. Life in every word. And some people may think it's absurd. But I don't. And I think that the love of my life will have to be the same way.
Now, I am by no means trying to "limit God's choice" or any such nonsense. For all I know, God may have someone picked out for me who hates literature/poetry/art. I'm just saying that the likelihood of that being the case is not very grand in my mind.
Mayhaps she will not agree, per sé, or she will not do it herself, but I feel as though she would at least have to appreciate the quality in myself and be willing to listen and celebrate it whenever I have a poetic outburst.
Now, as result of noticing the above qualities, and the simple fact that I look for and normally find metaphor and poetry in just about everything, I came to the conclusion that the love of my life, or just about anyone I was to love romantically for a long period of time, would have to be able to do something similar.
Either she would need to be able to recognize it herself, just like I do, or she would have to at least genuinely appreciate it whenever I got excited about it. I find myself often, repeatedly, perpetually echoing the desire of the speaker in The Postal Service's song "Clark Gable":
"I want so badly to believe that 'there is truth, that love is real,' and I want life in every word to the extent that it's absurd."
That is literally what I want. Life in every word. And some people may think it's absurd. But I don't. And I think that the love of my life will have to be the same way.
Now, I am by no means trying to "limit God's choice" or any such nonsense. For all I know, God may have someone picked out for me who hates literature/poetry/art. I'm just saying that the likelihood of that being the case is not very grand in my mind.
Mayhaps she will not agree, per sé, or she will not do it herself, but I feel as though she would at least have to appreciate the quality in myself and be willing to listen and celebrate it whenever I have a poetic outburst.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
A Lesser Grief
One of my favorites. It was originally inspired by a particular person, but soon developed beyond that as I recognized that this is a widely occurring condition.
One of the first people I showed it to told me that this poem could very easily be pegged in the Victorian era, when this sort of sentiment would be the widely conveyed one. Nowadays, that is not so. We're all about speaking our mind, yet we hide so much.
"A Lesser Grief"
I am afraid of the unknown,
Of what words unsaid might say.
What murmurings of the mind
So fearfully withheld may do:
Doom could be dispensed
As pensiveness runs free.
I too fear, thy dear opinion kept
Leaves worst to grasp, I pine.
My thoughts stay here
As thine are there.
Wherefore we hide the truth,
For fear of the unknown?
What dared we've to disclose
Is just enough to bluff the heart,
To set the mind a-foolish-flutter
And clutter reason over-much.
Our subtle sleuths do thrive,
Alive subconscious.
The words restrained
Leave chance for wound unmeant.
An arrow from bow bent
In plain sight's view does leave
A lesser grief than blow
Unknown from friend.
Truth indeed does clear the air,
Wherefore then content are we,
Coexistent in a cloud?
To stay ourselves, our aim,
Maintain the status quo;
Obscure the truth and cure a shift.
Any revolution for us yet,
Our paths and hearts are set against it,
Content in current state,
Yet discontent does rage inside,
As fear does fill the flesh,
I am afraid of the unknown.
One of the first people I showed it to told me that this poem could very easily be pegged in the Victorian era, when this sort of sentiment would be the widely conveyed one. Nowadays, that is not so. We're all about speaking our mind, yet we hide so much.
"A Lesser Grief"
I am afraid of the unknown,
Of what words unsaid might say.
What murmurings of the mind
So fearfully withheld may do:
Doom could be dispensed
As pensiveness runs free.
I too fear, thy dear opinion kept
Leaves worst to grasp, I pine.
My thoughts stay here
As thine are there.
Wherefore we hide the truth,
For fear of the unknown?
What dared we've to disclose
Is just enough to bluff the heart,
To set the mind a-foolish-flutter
And clutter reason over-much.
Our subtle sleuths do thrive,
Alive subconscious.
The words restrained
Leave chance for wound unmeant.
An arrow from bow bent
In plain sight's view does leave
A lesser grief than blow
Unknown from friend.
Truth indeed does clear the air,
Wherefore then content are we,
Coexistent in a cloud?
To stay ourselves, our aim,
Maintain the status quo;
Obscure the truth and cure a shift.
Any revolution for us yet,
Our paths and hearts are set against it,
Content in current state,
Yet discontent does rage inside,
As fear does fill the flesh,
I am afraid of the unknown.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Less Than Watchmen For The Morning
I wrote this in a moment of desperation, and for that reason, it is powerful. At first I thought it was not as well done as some of my other stuff, but I have since retracted that judgment.
While it is not as technical or vividly poetic as some of my other work, it is not worse, simply different. Few of my other poems have the raw emotion that this one does.
Can anyone tell me where the title comes from?
“Less Than Watchmen For The Morning”
My sanity is gone.
My sanity is GONE!
I must be crazy to be thinking these thoughts
Or saying these things, these words:
I know I’m going crazy, I know I’ve gone insane.
It’s the pain…or lack thereof.
My heart’s a black hole, devoid of love.
Oh sure, people love me.
And I’d love to say I love them too,
But actions speak louder than words, you know?
…and those have been sorely lacking of late.
And I sure as…well, I’ve got a few idols I love more than You.
True, I know that You Love me the same yesterday, today and even tomorrow…
…or do I?
That’s why I must be going crazy,
I must have lost my mind.
Because it’s You I cannot find.
Oh Lord El Shaddai, I don’t know why
Your All-Sufficiency isn’t sufficient in my mind.
I can’t see You…I don’t feel You.
I want to feel, God, I want to HEAL!
He said taste and see but weak stupid me
Isn’t up to that now.
I need change, God please rearrange all the idols of my heart
Start to regenerate this flesh!
The self-imposed darkness is closing in,
Elohim, speak-------into the darkness
And breath life, end my internal strife.
I do not feel You nigh, I don’t feel…not even to cry
And so I wait.
I don't want to, I don't care to try
But I wait.
Please come Adonai.
While it is not as technical or vividly poetic as some of my other work, it is not worse, simply different. Few of my other poems have the raw emotion that this one does.
Can anyone tell me where the title comes from?
“Less Than Watchmen For The Morning”
My sanity is gone.
My sanity is GONE!
I must be crazy to be thinking these thoughts
Or saying these things, these words:
I know I’m going crazy, I know I’ve gone insane.
It’s the pain…or lack thereof.
My heart’s a black hole, devoid of love.
Oh sure, people love me.
And I’d love to say I love them too,
But actions speak louder than words, you know?
…and those have been sorely lacking of late.
And I sure as…well, I’ve got a few idols I love more than You.
True, I know that You Love me the same yesterday, today and even tomorrow…
…or do I?
That’s why I must be going crazy,
I must have lost my mind.
Because it’s You I cannot find.
Oh Lord El Shaddai, I don’t know why
Your All-Sufficiency isn’t sufficient in my mind.
I can’t see You…I don’t feel You.
I want to feel, God, I want to HEAL!
He said taste and see but weak stupid me
Isn’t up to that now.
I need change, God please rearrange all the idols of my heart
Start to regenerate this flesh!
The self-imposed darkness is closing in,
Elohim, speak-------into the darkness
And breath life, end my internal strife.
I do not feel You nigh, I don’t feel…not even to cry
And so I wait.
I don't want to, I don't care to try
But I wait.
Please come Adonai.
Goodnightlove
Written late 2008; One of my best. The structure and meaning is some of my most skillful/purposeful.
"Goodnightlove"
Goodnightlove:
You are off to dream sweet things,
In your head,
On your bed,
I hope these things of one is me.
This day's love does cause exhaust,
I so fear,
You my dear,
May find it weary for the cost.
"Give all" is all that love asks,
None--not I,
Can deny,
That love not this is but a mask.
Mine mortal means indeed are
Too meager,
Far weaker,
Than will sustain you to afar.
Forforever:
The best of me to rest you
Never will,
Ever fill,
Or come to satisfy me too.
Mine incomparable acts
Rare indeed,
Ne'er succeed,
To fulfill you and love's contract.
I am small and of no weight
Simply man.
Foolish plan:
To love you in my current state.
My flesh is dark, hark! 'Tis weak!
So must you,
Love me true,
And find due end to which to seek.
Tillmorncomes:
Mine heart fails despite best try
My dearest,
You know this:
Contenting love, not mine, is nigh.
Perhaps whence this love scours,
All will see,
We will be,
Found to find each other is ours.
But only then, when love based,
Not in you,
Nor me too,
Will love not ours be our pure haste.
So shall you I hasten to,
At nights end,
I begin,
To love not you, yet love you true.
"Goodnightlove"
Goodnightlove:
You are off to dream sweet things,
In your head,
On your bed,
I hope these things of one is me.
This day's love does cause exhaust,
I so fear,
You my dear,
May find it weary for the cost.
"Give all" is all that love asks,
None--not I,
Can deny,
That love not this is but a mask.
Mine mortal means indeed are
Too meager,
Far weaker,
Than will sustain you to afar.
Forforever:
The best of me to rest you
Never will,
Ever fill,
Or come to satisfy me too.
Mine incomparable acts
Rare indeed,
Ne'er succeed,
To fulfill you and love's contract.
I am small and of no weight
Simply man.
Foolish plan:
To love you in my current state.
My flesh is dark, hark! 'Tis weak!
So must you,
Love me true,
And find due end to which to seek.
Tillmorncomes:
Mine heart fails despite best try
My dearest,
You know this:
Contenting love, not mine, is nigh.
Perhaps whence this love scours,
All will see,
We will be,
Found to find each other is ours.
But only then, when love based,
Not in you,
Nor me too,
Will love not ours be our pure haste.
So shall you I hasten to,
At nights end,
I begin,
To love not you, yet love you true.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Much Too Strong For Fantasy
One of my better poems, relatively structured compared to most of m poems. I worked on this one for almost six months before I finished it. I think it turned out excellently. And yes, it has two titles, because I think both of them are completely effective.
"Much Too Strong For Fantasy”
-or-
"The Process By Which Two Persons Achieve Sustained Movement Through The Air"
You and I my darling dear
Will flit and flee into the sky
Far away from all our fears
And hallelujah we shall cry.
The others think they understand
Why our hands are clasped so tight;
To grasp the love on which we stand
One must with us engage in flight.
The love with which we fly is true
Stands firm quite through life's days and nights;
Depends not how I feel for you
And weathers all our faults and fights.
Self-sacrifice sustains us here
It takes ourselves out of our love
Removes the lust and leaves love clear;
We fly sans fear so far above.
The lucid sky our muse becomes
And sings our love's sweet covenant.
Our flesh and blood and love are one
My strength to fly less you, relents.
Darling dear so shall we fly
My worst and yours is in this best
For us the far is now brought nigh;
I wonder with wonder at how we've been Blessed.
"Much Too Strong For Fantasy”
-or-
"The Process By Which Two Persons Achieve Sustained Movement Through The Air"
You and I my darling dear
Will flit and flee into the sky
Far away from all our fears
And hallelujah we shall cry.
The others think they understand
Why our hands are clasped so tight;
To grasp the love on which we stand
One must with us engage in flight.
The love with which we fly is true
Stands firm quite through life's days and nights;
Depends not how I feel for you
And weathers all our faults and fights.
Self-sacrifice sustains us here
It takes ourselves out of our love
Removes the lust and leaves love clear;
We fly sans fear so far above.
The lucid sky our muse becomes
And sings our love's sweet covenant.
Our flesh and blood and love are one
My strength to fly less you, relents.
Darling dear so shall we fly
My worst and yours is in this best
For us the far is now brought nigh;
I wonder with wonder at how we've been Blessed.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Except You Enthrall Me (Never Shall Be Free)
This is one of the best poems I've ever written. It's one of the first real poems I wrote, too. The title comes from John Donne's fairly well known Holy Sonnet XIV.
"Except You Enthrall Me (Never Shall Be Free)"
I want a swing in my backyard,
But since I don't have one of those
I'd like a backyard too as well,
In a place that no one knows.
And in this swing I'd swing
While in my mind I would discourse,
Of my thoughts unto my thoughts and ponder much on prose.
Though poetry clear I could hold dear
As dear these time upon this swing.
Who knows? Perchance I'd chance to sing a ditty sweet
Or ballad strong of loves long lost or yet to come,
While swinging free under the tree
In my backyard where no one goes.
I fly quite high into the sky
(beyond the dirt I'm grounded on)
And think on more than me and mine.
This swing remains two metal chains
And rubber sling for short a time
If on it sits an unwhole soul who craves
A thought beyond the known.
I want this swing so badly, because on it
I much further see,
My vision goes beyond my sight,
And on it once I saw the light.
"Except You Enthrall Me (Never Shall Be Free)"
I want a swing in my backyard,
But since I don't have one of those
I'd like a backyard too as well,
In a place that no one knows.
And in this swing I'd swing
While in my mind I would discourse,
Of my thoughts unto my thoughts and ponder much on prose.
Though poetry clear I could hold dear
As dear these time upon this swing.
Who knows? Perchance I'd chance to sing a ditty sweet
Or ballad strong of loves long lost or yet to come,
While swinging free under the tree
In my backyard where no one goes.
I fly quite high into the sky
(beyond the dirt I'm grounded on)
And think on more than me and mine.
This swing remains two metal chains
And rubber sling for short a time
If on it sits an unwhole soul who craves
A thought beyond the known.
I want this swing so badly, because on it
I much further see,
My vision goes beyond my sight,
And on it once I saw the light.
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