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Literature Text
How can I ignore each soul
That holds inherent eternity
Potential of the highest call
Or despair of deepest grief
A cosmic reality that stretches
As deepest calling unto deep
And yet I complain
About my burnt toast
And my sore throat
And my ink that runs dry
Like paper-thin gauze that covers
Stuck taut across my cheeks
Pin hole light, dampened breath
And limited oxygen supplies
Gasping for air-not-of-this-world
Tired recognition of compromise
And I find no words
And my throat hurts
And I'm late for work
And the pen has run dry
Lord, please be my centre
And may Your kingdom come
Let this reality's duality
Unveil before my eyes,
To confront my gaze - my heart
And to sear again my mind
And You give the words
And You shine Your light
Although my throat is hurting
And the toast is burnt
That holds inherent eternity
Potential of the highest call
Or despair of deepest grief
A cosmic reality that stretches
As deepest calling unto deep
And yet I complain
About my burnt toast
And my sore throat
And my ink that runs dry
Like paper-thin gauze that covers
Stuck taut across my cheeks
Pin hole light, dampened breath
And limited oxygen supplies
Gasping for air-not-of-this-world
Tired recognition of compromise
And I find no words
And my throat hurts
And I'm late for work
And the pen has run dry
Lord, please be my centre
And may Your kingdom come
Let this reality's duality
Unveil before my eyes,
To confront my gaze - my heart
And to sear again my mind
And You give the words
And You shine Your light
Although my throat is hurting
And the toast is burnt
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This was a poem finally written out of a touch of writer's block..
..but more significantly out of the struggle I am having with making something consistent out of life. I feel both frustration and longing all at once it seems. I find it a challenge to reconcile the meta-truth we are playing out in this microscopic view of a much larger epic story of God and life and eternity.. and to see how this epic, this eternity must then effect the way we relate to one another, how then we are to love in a practical sense.. For me, this is a struggle to more consistently grasp the significance of this life amongst the mundane, boring and self-centred day-to-day-ness.
This poem was also inspired by this quote, and a discussion I have been having with a myspace friend who does not share my faith:
"You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations — these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit — immortal horrors or everlasting splendors." CS Lewis
..but more significantly out of the struggle I am having with making something consistent out of life. I feel both frustration and longing all at once it seems. I find it a challenge to reconcile the meta-truth we are playing out in this microscopic view of a much larger epic story of God and life and eternity.. and to see how this epic, this eternity must then effect the way we relate to one another, how then we are to love in a practical sense.. For me, this is a struggle to more consistently grasp the significance of this life amongst the mundane, boring and self-centred day-to-day-ness.
This poem was also inspired by this quote, and a discussion I have been having with a myspace friend who does not share my faith:
"You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations — these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit — immortal horrors or everlasting splendors." CS Lewis
© 2007 - 2024 gracelikerain316
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absolutley stunning