Who are you? What are you? You merciless beast Who only but take us to The reaper — so grim You truly are in cohorts with him Ushering us away From our fleeting innocence And passionate longings of our youth Only to wither and decay And be delivered to the hands of death.
Who do you think you are? What do you think we are? Just fishes in the sea That you hook and reel in?— To be baked or fried Or eaten alive? Yet, the good ones are spared And the rotten thrown out You merciless beast You truly are In cohorts with him!
Oh, wise one Oh, truth Oh, master of time Oh, lord of air Who has treaded upon the waters and laid out the veins of earth with fiery words?
Oh, source of light Oh, giver of life Oh, father of eve Oh savior of mankind Who has suffered the darkest depths of the human heart, and yet did not utter hate as his blood was shed?
In absurd gentleness In total surrender Who merely cried out, “Why— Father has though, me, forsaken?” To make way for redemption Through unthinkable love and forgiveness Despite the scorn of a thousand thorns and lashes?
Oh, king of kings Oh, lord of all Oh, wise one Who seeks wisdom anymore in humility and meekness that truth might be granted to light up our lamps when you suddenly come?
Piercing the dark with your light to unveil the truth and reveal all the mysteries ever hidden from man Your word is a sword You are the word And the word was with God And the word was God, through whom all things were made.
Jesus. Yeshua. Jesus. The way, the truth, and the life. Regardless of what man believes, You will come again in all your glory after the good news is preached to the ends of the earth Oh, God of the heavens.
***While intending to make new goals for this year, i ended up uncovering instead some unmet goals in the years past, including this poetry, which I had written a year or two ago and later forgot about. Well, it's about time...for posting.
What a snob Time is! It never stops for you and me. It passes as I write, and my thoughts and ink flow. I stop. Time goes. It runs on and on— its destination unknown to make it back perhaps to its master… on time.
