An Outcry from the Earth

The earth raises an outcry!
Stars give birth to sighs and sobs
Evil ones siphon life from the weak.
As angels far and near weep bitter tears

The anguish of eternity strained by a fault
Where the continuum is shattered with corruption.
The Joy of a child is truncated to the impish fear-slave
Who powerfully shapes the world to his cold, imprisoned self.

The ignorance of sticklers too engrossed in their pride
To march in their fury as one brick-burning tide
Of lava born from new and uncultivated earth
To demolish man’s futility and gold of no true worth.

Crusty squabblers talk the wind out of noisy gullets satiated
By the unending torrent of frenzied feedings they crave
While the simpler joys go tasted without gumption
And silence waits his turn to escape the vault.

“How long?” the earth bemoans its weight
It cannot stand to see the angels weep.
The heart of man is like the earth
It bleeds both fire and water.

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Vanity (A venting of feelings)

Futility’s ache of timelessness borne
In a time capsule that drifts downstream
Between eternity past to eternity future
And conveys us before the scrutiny of Angelic eyes

The winding of a clock ticking in purple space
Floating endlessly in an expanse of starry hosts
They study how the Glory of God looks
When flowing steadily in one direction.

AICH! Those capsules that encase eternity entrapped
Down the tube which we call finitude which isn’t so bad
Except for the corruption that has corroded the metal
That would have preserved time’s treasures unwasted

Oh the loss of precious seconds, those synovial drops
By which the clock-works turn their increments
Over and over, made pointless not by the repitition
But the emptiness that accompanies the incredulous tick.

Daddy, Time-Keeper, Heart-lover, friend-forever,
I spit out time into a cup like lukewarm water.
I etch out the daily grind of losses repulsive and unnecessary.
I cry out for meaning in this enterprise I take.

Why do the hours cake over my heart like mud?
Why can’t the hours be burned up in flames
Fuel for the passionate heart that utilizes
All the stuff of life, so nothing goes to waste?

Come, O God, show Your glory in this outcry
Little sense comes from seeking worth in vanity
But instead let me find my worth in You
So that I can somehow maintain humble sanity.

Outcry: A Venting of Poetic Anxiety

AIEE! A shade, a shadow, a block
The sun is bright, but I cannot see
My eyes have seen into the depths
Of what can but must not be

I retch and heave, the asphalt black
Has scorched my feet with trepidation
My riven side is cracked with fever blisters
My tongue is aching with the stomach’s refusal

How brisk this scattered search for light
That my eyes will light on a single star
And pray that it rise like a morning sun
To light my day with hope and life

But here I sit swallowed up with strings
They strangle me with the impediments of actionless-ness
They bite at me like a siphoning stringent strain
That leaves me beleaguered

Except for when I’m with her.
The light of favor in another’s eyes
The buy-in that requite Heaven’s treasures
To see them reflected in the pure pools of a beautiful soul.

But alas should that pool with mud be thick
For then the ways of my feet cannot be quick.
I move like a drunken man, and make myself sick
I strive to break my stride of one man carrying the weight of bricks.

The echoes of a heart that long to be begotten
Lest all its treasures that once fell ripe off the branch might be forgotten!
Nay, it shall not be . . . the light of day comes to make a planet new
But how am I to face the sun, without a bead of dew?

So happens when the eye is drawn to split his view
Between Heaven and Earth to dig the old for the new
To partner with the souls that seek a home
And find a place to rest from life’s torpid foam.

A stirring deep within me centers quietly
Tis goodness to be wrought from His seed planted.
The tired steps I take toward Eve’s bower.
When I do not know if she is even there.

Will I the man find a place for my hand
To till the ground and serve the land
Or will the earth not yield her strength
To make the seed bear fruit again?

A risk to walk one path with Him
And then to join into one way two
Shall I well-serve His pleasure here
And give water to she who still misses her home?