Monday, August 28, 2006

LIFE IN THE SLOW LANE, a poem (by me)

Life is the path my body chose,
when born back on the day
I entered this human time zone
and started to find my way.

Yet every night I practice death,
and every time I nap.
And every time I commit a sin
and fall in Satan's trap.

It's like walking up a mountain trail,
steeper steeper as I go
with the weight of my humanity
causing me to travel slow.

And when the sweet wind brushes by
kissing my skin with whispers sweet
I get a whiff of God's true promise
urging a change of path for my feet.

I change as if blind and tapping
a red tipped cane of love
and try so hard oh try to stay
the course so dearly paid by blood.

And failing this daily I tire
and once again drift away
to practice the nightly petit morte
until my final day.

1 comment:

Classical Presbyterian said...

I was one of those kids who mangled poetry in the writing of it, so I always admIre those who can write in verse!

There is the story of one of the Jewish Hasidic masters who would go to bed each night and confess to God: "I sinned today and I am sorry. Tomorrow, it will not happen again."

One night, following his prayer some voice within him accused his prayer: "You don't mean it! You say this EVERY night, yet the next day you keep sinning!"

To which he replied: "Yes, that is right. But the difference is TONIGHT...I really mean it!"

Such is our position in life, is it not? It's a good thing salvation is not up to us!