Wednesday 16 June 2010

Commonality.


Little Hand

You don't know
you're breaking my heart
or how I wish
it could be me instead of you
I sit at the bottom of your bed
and there's nothing I can do
I pray my earnest prayer
for God to let you stay
but know deep inside
he's taking you away

Carefully structured expectations
unspoken hopes and plans entwined
though struck by such a feeble hand
collapse entangled in the mind

This is the last of carefree days
of youthful jest and childlike joy
but captured moments of these and more
this day will not destroy

And the wounded heart will never
let go of this little hand
still reaching where the treasure is
will sojourn only in this land

And the wounded Saviour will never
let go of our grief and pain
God knows we do not understand
it's hard enough to be sane.

Naive heart.

The stomach is full
the bed is soft and warm
but the soul
is oh so hungry
in the restless night
Everything seems so small
and so far away
the attendant murmur of age
mingles with the distant sound
of children at play
And little lights
almost in view
once cities of interest
now glow for a moment
only to fade
into the dull sameness
of what has been
The naive heart
enquires for purpose
in a frivolous void
of diversion
and the penitent
subconscious soul
confesses nightly
to the God
inescapable.

Lonely road.

O my God
I feel so empty inside
falling through the void
of my own emptiness
there is nothing
only fear
so afraid of living
so afraid to die

The desolation of my soul
has met me on a lonely road
and every way I turn
and all I try to do
seem only moments of distraction
from this unknown life
and knowledge of death

No one is old
seventy is not old
seventy millennia would not be old
and still not long enough
to learn to be a man
We are children
lost in a dangerous world
the present uncertain
the future unclear
and our deepest needs
will not be found here.

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