The Flame Within

The lantern light flickers and rolls,

As it casts a pale glow over the page.

Outside the door, the moonlight glistens and gleams,

And casts its hoary rays over the snow covered forest.

Lighting up the frigid night in all its splendor.

Beyond my door the world is frozen, 

Yet so much more than freezing.

The night is what lay beyond my door,

Starless,  cold, void- bitter to the touch 

and dreadful to behold firsthand.

Pine, spruce, and birch all crack and twist-

A cacophony of sound in the resounding silence.

Beautiful and dormant are the trees 

That so readily provide us shade and heat,

The seasonal pastimes they so graciously enjoy.

Deep inside the cabin, a great fire roars-

Dispelling cold and silence both, 

filling the void with pleasant scents;

The stove glows bright cherry-red,

Stirring both the  soul and hand.

Could it be? I see my heart before me,

The frigid world beyond my door in eternal winter.

Yet-as if a memory, though one not yet seen-

Summer still  resounds as a fire in my heart,

As His hope and love fuel the flame within.

As I lay my will down one more time,

I remember Your promises so faithful and true;

No regret dwells within those whom You have chosen

My fate will be as those who have gone before

The ones who spoke to You and heard Your voice.

No matter what lay beyond my door,

I look to You for life, for my very breath

And trust you to give me the words and Your strength.

The lantern light flickers and rolls,

As it casts a pale glow over the page.

The measure of Faith

Faith made sight before its time,

Was never faith at all-

All would dare the lofty heights,

For lack of fear to fall. 

Faith made sight before its time,

It has not worth, it costs no dime-

Of yours, or His, or even mine,

It's useless as can be.

Faith made sight before its time

Can never honor God

For trust removed will always prove,

Our plans will ever fail

Faith made sight before its time

By that you can't be saved,

Trust and pray, and then obey,

That's how your faith is made.

Carpe Diem

Not that you lived, but how you lived

That's what the wise men say.

Not who you are, or that you give,

But what you do today.

Each day has got a set amount

For evil to abound

Yet we all may still account

For that  we ought confound

If we don't redeem the time,

It's too late to repent.

Whatever you do, wherever you go,

Give no less than a hundred percent.

When I set down, and rest my eyes,

Dear Lord, this is my plea,

With my last cry and dying breath

Achieve my destiny. 

When at last the day has passed,

My life is drained and gone,

Same box is used to house them both-

The King and the lowly Pawn.

The choice is yours which part to play

Left to us to decide,

For when at last we face our fears,

They can't say we didn't try.

The One I'm Chasing

So tired of the wanting, of the waiting, of the needing;

Can't stand the sound of this quietness, unfeeling.

I long to find the one who can share my hopes and dreams, 

The looking isn't bad- yet, finding harder than it seems.

Who is there can find her- that one who's meant for me?

In all the places I have gone, she's nothing but a dream.

A woman of great beauty, more within her than without-

Else all the rest is worthless, know that beyond a doubt.

Although I feel I've seen her not, I've still come close it seems

She haunts my every moment, and fills all of my hopes and dreams.

Her grace is so unnerving, her poise so rare to find

Her faithfulness unswerving, so helpful, caring, kind.

How will I ever meet her, that girl by God designed?

So long have I been restless, I lose the strength to mind,

But still my soul will praise his name, The One who guides my heart,

He formed my every moment, has led me from the start.

You're The One that I am chasing; while yet I seek her face,

I look to Yours for guidance, that I may run my race. 

I submit my soul, again, into your loving hands,

That I may endure the darkness,  though I be sifted in the sand.

You are the One, my Father, supplying every need.

Oh, keep my hands from evil, as I  live by your decrees.

I will observe Your statues, and obey all Your commands,

Because You are The One- You give me strength to stand.

You're the One that I am chasing, if I seek You I will find

Your heart and your compassion, and your faithful peace of mind. 

The waters of friendship

On the river, I found peace,
Sun soaking into skin so deeply
My heart is filled with joy again
To do the thing I missed so neatly

With every stroke my muscles swell
And speed my way down channels there
The eagle and the moose agree
That forests, they are all quite fair

Jumping in, I dive and swim
Emerging river-drenched and cold
Not merely soaking skin and clothes,
But shooting to my very soul

How long have I, so battle-scarred,
Been parched so that I knew it not?
My soul I thought was still yet damp
But now I know that it was not.

So dry! So hard! So worn and shattered!
Yet there is grace to be found in those waters,
Not simply those of the raging river,
But in the healing waters of friendship.

Nothing else really matters

Hear me, All-Father!
Lend your ear to the voice of this,
Your meanest son, and lowest servant.

I have endured the trials,
I have Striven and fought and bled.
the battle seemed won at last.

Yet in the end, I lay broken
In the rubble and confusion,
Failing my Lord, and His commands.

I've failed with all I've set my hand.
My life is as ashes in the pit,
Coals extinguished and growing cold.

no matter in my life unscathed,
All is mired in the muck and slog
Grasping me with iron claws.

The monsters all I've slain
To be bitten by the snake,
gliding angrily about my heals.

If victory is beyond my grasp, then grant at least
An honorable death, that I might dine within your hall
And with your Mighty Heroes dwell.

And yet, my hope is not in me,
It springs from something deep,
From a source that cannot be measured

A spring that overflows it's banks,
Your love overwhelms my heart and life;
Bringing me to faith and Granting me strength.

At last I know, despite my worth--So little in worldly view--
that value in your eyes I've found.
And nothing else really matters.

The Katana

The broken sword has been reforged—a thing of beauty, found quite rare.

The Master’s hand and will accord; endow a change beyond compare.

No sharper blade on earth is found, than one made right by His own hand.

Though chosen, many can't account for time spent here, within this land.

Steel is folded into steel, two hundred times and maybe more.

One for every tear that’s shed; aye, even one for every score.

High carbon fuses into low; strength itself is tempered to

Stand resilient—nay, unbreakable—a mighty work to try to do.

Will a smith make new from what is old? A work of art will he complete?

Yet that He’s done and even more, from Broadsword laid down at His feet.

And when at last the soul is quenched, that gentle curve will show His pride;

He made a thing of honor still, from what the world had cast aside.

Then He makes it so it shines, flashing white with midday sun.

And even in the dim starlight, the world will see what He has done.

Twice born, twice tested, thrice fired and quenched.

For once it was not found wanting, for it was good to Him.