Unchosen Wealth ©
Unconsecrated,
Unworthy,
Unchosen,
Unclear,
The mind and the role and the path I should steer.
The years on the journey
too harsh for my skin,
The sinners, the losers, the beggars my kin.
The Church, less a mother
than distant embrace;
The Christ more a mirror, my weakness effaced;
A disciplined season still
lost in the pace
Of running the circles around.
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The duty, the mystery, the anger, the sin,
The journey, my brother,
my God deep within;
The hopes for a haven in the end so to win
In a ship almost soon run aground.
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So
darkness, my friend in a different way
In a cycle, a sine wave, the night and the day
As I look me a prison and
I seek me to pray
With a clarity never can come.
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What
marks us as sacred?
Which makes us profane?
When all are us human
And sinning the game
That leads us salvation
Despite class or rank
Where the end finds us broken
Still trying to thank
The heavens above us,
The Christ deep our soul,
The years of uneasement,
The days less than whole
When I am a mystery
Too much for my self
Because I can’t find
What is holy, my wealth!
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©
2011.02.02.1800.10f
