The God Of Weak Beings

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I am in progress, a contrast to who I was, the prelude to who I will be,

A wall of canvas, being caressed into a masterpiece by His brushstrokes.

In the Potter’s hands I am a vessel-to-be, the future of the lump of clay you see,

And I am becoming like Him as more of me splatters on the wheel’s spokes.

 

I am wayward and unwieldy, but His patience remains untried, He is eternally kind,

And in His godliness, He acknowledges my humanity, keeping my frailty in mind.

I often forget His benefits, I rave and I rant till He reminds me of His greatness,

Then I am awed into silence by a weight of blessings that leaves me weightless.

 

I grow proud, carried away on the flood of my achievements, little, self-important me,

I turn my back on the Giver and worship the gifts, before the wrong gods, I bend the knee.

Humility comes with a trial, but I am not humiliated, just restored to His Presence,

With love, He teaches me once again that without Him, life would have no essence.

 

I bow before the God of weak beings, the Savior of the downtrodden and castoffs,

He who finds a use for the useless, a greater use than the useful are worthy of.

I am the wick upon which His spirit-fire burns, my mortal self consumed by the divine,

Yet I remain, for I carry a portion of His permanence, the ‘how’ of which cannot be divined.

Poetry: Lord Of The Storms

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I wasn’t there when the great shorelines appeared,
But I know their Maker well, and His boundless love.
Tides do not move me, ’bout waves I’ve never cared,
What storms may come are the flapping wings of a dove.

The oceans at their deepest points, the unplumbed seas,
The roaring of a thousand winds, a breeze upon my face.
Breaking masts, ripping sails, gales in which men freeze,
Mercy, mercy over everything, there’s safety in this grace.

The darkest clouds across the deep, full of saltless tears,
Crooked fingers of celestial fire, point towards my ship.
But who am I to turn around, misguided by human fears?
He holds the spinning wheel and calms the heart that skips.

Master and commander, the all-light definition of safety,
It’s all right within when it’s all grey without, no doubt.
The waters are glass again, smooth sailing, here safely,
Land ahoy, led home by the peace I can’t live without.

Poetry: What I’ve Done

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I’m no stranger to failure, and I know success well,
Of my victories and losses I am not afraid to tell.
For I am totally human, and Krypton is not my home,
I have learnt that life is not made of joy alone.

I know of broken hearts and unrequited love,
Of hatred, grief and the peace God sends from above.
I have smelt a booming rose and sniffed a homeless man,
They both have a place in His great big plan.

I have visited my past, through the eyes of the needy,
I relived yesterday and for myself was moved to pity.
I remember the piercing cold, the emptiness in my soul,
The longing for a miracle to make my spirit whole.

I’ve heard rumours of war and walked across a field of mines,
I’ve mediated a truce between me and what was mine.
I’ve given up on memories, my history is in the making,
And I’ll rewrite my future with these baby steps I’m taking.

The Believer

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“Spin the bottle, there’s a selection to be made,”

“Not by us, but by fate, the great selector,” he said.

But I do not believe in dice and other such charades,

I am the decider of my destiny, no palms need be read.

 

The hell-bent charlatan, he wouldn’t give up so easily,

“It’s written in the stars,” he mentioned in a whisper.

Horoscopes are the fates of fools hurrying about busily,

Tricks of the mind, an injury to commonsense, a blister.

 

“The gods will it,” he pressed, desperate for greedy gain,

But there is only one God, and a thousand pretenders.

And following after idols is the harbinger of eternal pain,

I have sworn eternal allegiance to my soul’s Defender.

 

My resolve is a dead horse, a flogging of which is a wasting,

Of time and energy, a mindless reasoning for no reason.

I am the believer, my faith unfading through life’s hasting,

And from sunrise to sunset, unyielding through the seasons.