Death

A decrepit moth stretches dry wings in the white window pane while shadow draws out 'neath it.

The blackness beneath aged feet trails easily to the side opposite the rising rays of morning.

In his flutter, this moth turns to face the fleeting glory, slightly abject to it's intensity.

Finish Line

I'm still running--
ground is hard, steps are heavy
fists pumping fast to the pace the feet levy
You say I've been relieved.
I reply, “you are deceived.”
The soreness in my calves,
once properly grieved,
shall prove themselves resilient,
though, my energy's been thieved.
Give me a moment
to consider my health.
I’ll collect my belongings
and my dwindling wealth.
Should I, then,
conserve my pace,
or damn the strategy
of this race?
--I'm still running

The Lord's Prayer

Our Father,
who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name.
Thy Kingdom come,
thy will be done,
on earth
as it is
in heaven
Give us this day
our daily bread.
And forgive us
our trespasses,
as we forgive
those who trespass
against us.
And lead us
not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.
For thine is
the kingdom,
the power
the glory,
for ever and ever.

Amen
Matthew 6:9-14

Beyond Me

A fortress of sticks blockades my way.

Mud engulfs my sinking boots.

Sand as a storm succumbs my sight.

Ravaged. I am trailed by brutes.

Spite. I am happy now.

I've uncovered my space.

Though beasts surround.

Not a tear wets my face.

Something has happened.

I do not understand.

Tolerance for pain.

A heavy hand.

My foe has been shifted.

To one I know well.

Though abased on this rock.

I am prone to the fell.

The enemies eye's pervade mine. Own.

I am at a loss.

Judgment in a glance.

Preceding the decided stone toss.