The Prodigal’s Black Box

The matter lost
In the slow concussion
Gentle and steadfast
At the rate of age
And inevitably sure
Is that gravity leaves
A downturn In
The arc of your high
Fireball trajectory
Surely a light against
The sky burned bright
Then out leaving soil
In a barren field scarred
With ashes and debris
To reflect another
Light that still lands
Upon the consequences
Of lessons unlearned
Inadequacy unconfessed
And peace unfound
Tired of feeding pigs, yet
You never made it home

Reaction (a stream of consciousness poem)

The focus of our time
That which steals the purpose
The substance that could be our reaction
To something divine
Outside our realm of understanding
But fully capable
With infinite potential
To create beyond the scope of our conception
Life abundant
Through grace incomprehensible
Prompting us
If we will let It
To overflow with foolishness
For that is what it is in comparison
To the scales – the units of measure
By which humanity has limited itself
Irrational
God and everything outside of ourselves
Outside of self
Our attention focused on the other
Our attention and time and energy
Spent outside of ourselves
Is equivalent I believe
To Love
To God
To worship God is to let our attention
Let our limitations
Let our reactions and our fear
Loose
Free to run away
and in doing so
Freeing us to trust and place
Our hope
Our time
Our hands
Our feet
Directly on the path that He has drawn out
To reveal His glory through
To love others
To serve others
To focus your attention outside
Of ourselves
Is to love God
To worship God
To touch the heart of Jesus
And to remove ourselves
From our own grip
With which we cling so tightly
To sin and the death
The absence of life
That it brings
Lord teach me in each moment
Of each day going forward to
Look outside of myself
To let go of myself
To release my fear
And grab Your hand
As it is extended out to me
Each day in need
Empty my hands
Oh Lord
So that I am free to react
To focus my attention
To spend my time
Outside of myself
Outside of sin
But, in You
In Love

Spent

Like canvas stretched tightly over the frame
Imposing upon each gessoed fiber strain

Constitution’s vulnerabilities
Raked and now exposed for the world to seize

Endless hours spent chasing carrot tails
While stuttering words and accruing fails

Squandering away these precious few hours
Tasked to preserve the substance of flowers

Regardless the cost for vain veneers paid
I find my own dignity worn and splayed

With all cupboards bare
The absence clear shows
I have nothing more
To give from behind doors that only close

Chiaroscuro

The gap in synchrony

between my head and feet

Both entangling a soul

though tethered free indeed

My earthbound walk painted

more like a stagger and lurch

Between eternal heights

and a cyclical curse

Ever failing to learn

lessons from missteps made

But for Your favor unearned

I’d end at the grave

Until You return in

this condition I’ll wait

Moving onward and upward

death penalty stayed

Going Deeper

Featured Image -- 1767 Kevin Max‘s alternative approach was just the approach that I needed. His music, more often than not, knowingly leans away from that which would woo the center flow of this big river we’re all swimming in. But, not everybody is caught up in the surface flow of the main channel and the concessions that must be made to appeal to the largest demographic. Some prefer to go deeper.

There is something to be said for those who opt for the road less traveled and, yet, shine, “like a piece of gold from the mountainside…” Read my story here: Providence In The Shadow And A Pledge Of Allegiance To The Music And Poetry Of Kevin Max.