Steward

The water's been spilt
a threshold crossed
Our life-blood
the properties which keep us breathing
negated, little by little
We try to sop the puddle
Mend the gap
Stitch the cut
and gasp for air
but we are being strangled by our own hands
We age
We wrinkle
We scar
If He has truly set eternity in the hearts of men, why do we live such mortal lives?
I desire more, but I perpetually do less.
Perhaps we are intended to age, wrinkle, and scar
and in doing we give up our cups that we find prone to be spilled.
This is life.
We cross boundaries in a spirit not our own- in a spirit our own becomes
We mend the wounds of others
but it is something wholly beyond ourselves.
Our strength is not our own and it is perfected in our weaknesses.
Mortality given to death is grieving- weakness
Mortality given to life is immortality- strength
Eternity is set in our hearts
Immortality must be lived
This is our inheritance
-Choice

Hinneh

Here am I, Lord
Withered and beat
Gone in this perpetually dismal defeat
So long have we labored
Hefting the world's burdens to your feet
So long have we waited
Turning not left or right with deceit
So long have we stayed
With nowhere to rest and nothing to eat
So long have we pained
In child-birth till our King takes His seat
The harvest is here
Come, gather your wheat
Wisdom no longer calls to an empty street
Arise, O Lord
Press this coal to my lip
Allow me to feel it's refining heat
Send me.

Hope In Grace

Why
oh
why
did
I
step
outside
my
mind
Now
I
fall
in
a
line
of
incoherent
time
in
the
only
commonality
of
Heaven
and
Hell
that
is
eternity
There
is
indeed
a
light
below
or
is
it
up
toward
which
I
go
Shining
peeks
through
a
circular
hole
as
though
viewed
from
the
bottom
of
a
well
within
this
enclosed
cell
Instead
of
remaining
grounded
I
drop
up
or
down
to
this
luminous
elliptic
cascading
through
a
vacuum
of
lost
and
raveled
knowledge.