Saturday, August 20, 2016

The Day is Near

























what can be said,
that has not been said before?
facts change,
words rearrange,
details differ,
but at the end of the day,
there is nothing new under the sun,
we are still just a heartbeat away
from forever,
we are still only a mixture
of vanity and vexation;
this life fades like the morning dew,
evaporating into vapor,
forever lost,
eternally gone;
all the dreams and fantasies,
all the longing and sadness,
all the hopes and fears,
remain the same,
in spite of technology and toys,
despite self-imposed indignity,
we anesthetize and tranquilize
feelings and thoughts,
with pompous litanies of monumental self-worth,
and maniacal delusions of grandeur;
I am waiting,
I am ready,
the time is coming,
the day is near;
do not weep for the darkness,
it passes like the night,
fleeing without sound or sorrow,
leaving neither fear nor reservation,
filling the void with the terribleness
of its forsaken sadness and tears,
holding on,
waiting for the dawn;
just one more time,
just one more dream,
just one more step,
just one more breath;
I am waiting,
I am ready,
the time is coming,
the day is near.
.

.

All There Is

























“You do not want to leave too, do you?” Jesus asked the Twelve. Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and to know that you are the Holy One of God.” Then Jesus replied, “Have I not chosen you, the Twelve? Yet one of you is a devil!” (He meant Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot, who, though one of the Twelve, was later to betray him.)   John 6:67-71
Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you really know me, you will know my Father as well. From now on, you do know him and have seen him.”   John 14:6-7
I turn to You,
because You are all there is,
You alone have the truth,
You alone have the light;
everything fades
but You;
money,
objects,
security,
flesh,
cars,
homes,
mothers,
fathers,
brothers,
sisters,
sadness,
sorrow,
happiness,
joy,
buddha,
mohammed,
vishnu;
all the man-made gods and truths,
everything but You;
You alone have the words of eternal life,
You alone offer the hope of something more,
You alone speak truth, in a world of illusion and lies,
You alone are the way to the Father,
You alone took the burden of our sins upon Yourself,
You alone died that all might live,
You alone rose from the dead;
You alone are all there is.
.

.

waiting for the crossing





















I have been to this place before,
only to turn and run,
back to the comfort
of that
which is known;
not this time;
somehow I have to survive,
somehow I have to find
a way,
or die here in the darkness
of a forgotten land;
apologies
will never be enough;
standing at the border,
waiting for the crossing,
is the hardest thing
in life
you will ever have to do,
behind you is comfort
and that which you have
always known;
ahead;
nothing
but sadness and pain,
but still you go,
even though
you wish
it were not
so.
.

.

A Draw


























sometimes it is so close,
you can almost reach out and touch it,
as you feel it’s familiar scent floating on the breeze,
closing your eyes and tasting it in the air,
passing through your lungs;
just one long lonely cry away;
but then other times,
it is so very far,
you’re not even sure
it was ever there
at all;
today I felt her sadness,
it touched me deep inside,
and there was little I could do
to make it go away,
there’s just no room left,
the space that was once here,
has all been filled by another,
but still there are the memories,
sweet precious moments,
when we came close;
I shape shifted for her,
she likes it when I do that,
because then she can be who she really is,
without guilt or shame,
without expectations or explanations,
it made the pain just a little less,
but it made the gap just a little greater,
so all in all;
I’d say it was draw.
.

.

Wrong Side of the Fence


























twenty year old memories,
call out from hidden outposts,
down here in this ancient relic room,
where only the living creep,
stealing their way into the day,
free from pathetic interference
and frantic innuendoes,
lying broken and confused,
amidst the first rays of light,
full of empty promises,
lost somewhere along the way;
tell me,
does it still hurt
after all this time?
questions seldom work;
answers seldom do either;
now I know she has the gift,
and now I know
she has the curse as well,
I suppose there was never any doubt,
only wishful thinking,
in this battle of one over the other,
and how do you tell one so young,
that you know exactly what it is
they are going through,
exactly what they are feeling;
when you have yet to learn yourself;
how do you erase the sadness
of a million years of suffering,
as she feels every broken dream,
every ounce of inflicted pain,
since time began;
when you go through life
looking into the face of evil,
it becomes very hard to remember
on which side of the fence you belong.
.

.

Rebellion


























old memories,
painful and sweet,
slip through my fingers
like water
pouring down a cold
mountain steam;
life is sadness;
I refuse
to be a part of the sadness
anymore,
I may go down,
but I will not go
quietly,
nor shall I make it easy
for those
who ensure
it all stays within
these little yellow lines,
confined
to bitter confrontations
and final thoughts
of death and hate.
.

.

fade





time moves on,
the energy fades,
the end approaches;
no turning back,
life ends,
life begins,
this is the way of things;
there’s never enough;
do not be afraid,
just believe.
.
.

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