Monday, August 31, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
Friday, August 21, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Standing before the eternal throne of glory,
I watch as my life is built up
into a palace, a shack, a building
formed by thoughts, words, and actions.
The shining thought, loving word, Christ-like
deed, all these are shimmering, reflecting
the light of the glory of God. Enduring
for a lifetime, supporting and sustaining
the building, all that glitters is glory.
But the prideful thought, careless word, wicked
deed, all these are half-baked bricks,
sloppy stonework, weak and rotting wood.
Mixed throughout the work are materials
both firm and frail, base and beautiful.
And still the building of my life is built.
Finally it is finished, the Lord looks
and commands with a wave of His hand—
“It must be purged—by fire.” Aghast
I stand staring as holy fire
rains down, purifying, purging, consuming
all that is crass or carelessly constructed,
perfecting and polishing the pure. It rages,
reflecting off of gold and silver, bouncing
back the divine light.
The fire fades
and what remains glistens ever brighter
in the glory of God. It stands
scarred, yet whole and holy
through the purifying fire
which no base thing can endure.
All is made well through holy flame.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
This poem, written during Wheatstone, was inspired by the painting of Orpheus leading Eurydice from the Underworld...if you google it you can probably find an image of it somewhere. Though it was originally written merely to attempt to tell a bit of what I thought Orpheus might be feeling just after the moment the painting depicts, I think it encapsulates a lot of what I've been thinking about throughout the entire summer. So enjoy!
And now, the moment is passed,
the moment which sent my beloved
to hell and ripped my heart away;
I, sentenced to a hell on earth for hell
is wherever she is not. Forever
my doom falls upon me, and all
for a look. A single glance
upon that face of beauty
and light, born out of desire
to know and not just feel
that she is once more mine.
And for this I am condemned
to constant tears and tortures.
A single look, a glance at beauty,
and it forever flees from my
grasp. Must we live forever
apart, simply because I loved?
Because I wished to see, to behold
my beloved, she suffers in sorrow.
Nothing can saver her now, not
pleas nor promises nor even love.
Love, which led me here to her,
and which tore her away
from me. The price of a single
look, that fatal glance upon
the beauty of the beloved,
for no one may see
the face of their god and yet live,
and she was my god.