Tag Archives: home

Considering Decay

I found a bone
I brought it home
It once walked over dirt and stone,
It held a creatures flesh and skin,
It was partially the vessel the soul had traveled in.
I found a bone, a bone called sin.
I found a bone, the bone was dead.
Though alive in my head,
To me it said:
“What I was, I no longer am,
Though you hold me still I stand,
And one day will become the sea and land.”
I set it down then to display,
How it still stands, in a way,
How it still moves, and runs and plays.
You’ll see this too, if you consider decay.

No Peace.

She laid her once holy blade in the mud,
Raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun,
To gaze across a wasteland soaked in blood.
She looked for her brothers, for survivors, anyone,
Naught but frozen, lifeless eyes met her gaze.
Thousands and thousands marched with her from home,
So quickly torn from their halcyon days,
To the final resting place for their souls.
For herself she weeps, not so much the dead.
Her price? No release for herself to find.
For such a price, can “This is peace.” be said?
She mourns for the world that she’ll leave behind.
There’s no absolution in crimson tide.
There is no peace where so many must die.

Elsewhere

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A day in the trees,
Forgetting troubles below.
Far ahead she can see.
Vision unobstructed so,
One might wonder why,
Why would she ever come down?
Trees against a tempting sky,
Their branches make it impossible to frown.
Every comfort she could need there;
One blissful nap among the leaves.
Those troubles below need her care
In her those troubled believe.
She is not her own,
She is needed elsewhere.
The trees are not her home,
But she will seek them when time will spare.

Over Oceans

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She wanders alone and unafraid,
Fearless with nothing left to lose.
Lonely? Never. It’s not a path to choose.
Over the oceans, her plans laid.
Often thinks of why she left it;
Her birthplace still home, and how
She misses it but not so much now.
With what life offers, she has no desire to sit.
Wandering across her narrow path of stone,
Down the straight and narrow she was never truly alone.

For the Arms That Hold Me

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Oh!  For the arms that hold me!
For the hands that pick me up!
For my shelter, my strength,
For unending faithfulness,
For fathomless love,
For eternal mercy that comes from above!
Each and every day there is only one that I owe.
With every breath to Him I become more in debt.
And on the day when I’m finally home,
Shedding light on the secrets from the shadows finally crept,
Infinite forgiveness washes over me,
Unmakes them all, sin ceases to be.
Oh! For the price that bought this soul!
I can never repay, but this gift I can recieve.
Oh! For the day when I’ve come home.

All That Suffers

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All that suffers
In such a time.
There’s left to us no buffer,
Where we are confined.
He that hungers,
One denies,
Is of the never slumbers,
And the pain in which he cries.
We’re to hold
Those since disowned.
Our hearts to keep them from the cold,
Our arms to keep them, believe them,
All that suffers is not home.

Borrowed Time

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The moments we have are not our own,
Borrowed time and borrowed home.
What time we have we spend and we,
Commit too much and become debtors. He
Lends only a fixed amount,
A sum so high that we can’t count.
That is a number we’ll never know.
Spending each minute as if our last so,
Once our last is spent it’s no suprise,
If lived as such the rest of our lives.