Read. Write. Repeat. Aspire to be a Janitor.
I need to go home, but it’s a long drive back.
I must leave to get these voices out of my head,
they talk to me when I’m alone– nothing that you
would care to hear about, their message is for me.
My grandfather whispers softly in my ears,
but he’s not here, I know that he is sleeping, waiting
for the call to come back to life, but that seems too
long of a time to wait on this side of the end-
I know the time will come to sleep, and my eyes
will close as my weary feet are propped up towards
the east- but when will that day come?
My Saviour said, “You’ll be with me today,” to a thief,
but I think He might have forgotten to say it to me.
Is there more to this? Tell me where we are, where
we are, where we are. I’m sure we’re lost, but there
must be some reason to this madness we go through.
If you’ll take my hand, we can find the God who sleeps,
who keeps no record of our deeds, who laughs
when the angels weep.
This day has drawn to a close, the curtains pull back
and the actors bow. They throw roses to the stage
and say “We’ll see you some other lovely day!”
But they will die tonight. The pretty little dancers
are returned to their boxes and the singers to their perch;
we will know by the ticket sales what we’re all worth.
The god in the rafters fell after everyone left-
he crushed and demolished the intricate set.
Bridging the Ecclesial, the Academic, and the Political
"Surely I am more stupid than any man, And I do not have the understanding of man. Neither have I learned wisdom. But, the knowledge of the Holy One--that I know." Proverbs 30:2-3
Because poetry. And petals.
Manhood, Marriage, and Family From a Biblical Perspective
A modest attempt at thinking with assertive criticism.
Discovering the Gift
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from Morgan Bradham
Musings on poetry, language, perception, numbers, food, and anything else that slips through the cracks.