twilight in the park

the light grows dim
it's almost dark
the people all
have left the park

so i am left
alone at last
to face the truth
my time has past

you did not come
your seat is cold
my youthful dreams
have now grown old

i've loved and lost
and hoped in vain
that you would come
around again

the eleventh hour
is drawing nigh
perhaps it's time
to say goodbye

these human eyes
but see in part
perhaps those words
confused my heart

if you're still there
beyond my sight
come quickly love
before the night

then teach me how
to trust anew
that all He said
will yet come true

sarah

it's no use i'm afraid
the time is long past
those dreams deep inside
won't come true at last

i laugh yes i know
it may also be wrong
but you haven't been
in my shoes for this long

that day still burns bright
He promised yes He did
that these dried-up arms
would soon bear a kid

at first i thought maybe
a miracle would come
but days turned to years
and still not a son

i'm not proud of the time
i took over control
that plan b still taunts me
and eats at my soul

i don't know how he does it
that's a man i suppose
his eyes still light up
the faith in him glows

how can You still use me
this shriveled-up wreck
to end in such failure
is this worth my trek?

if You are who You say
here's my last bleeding cry
make good on Your promise
before my last breath i sigh

the monster behind door number 3

is there a moment in every life when they
face the monster that sucks the blood that
pumps through their veins and they realize
that this is it this is what will finally do me
in and if there is a moment is it fleeting or
subconscious or do some lives see the end
in all its gory monstrousness and wake up
sweating to the realization that my days are
numbered
and so what do i do now do i bury my head
back in the sand and hope this epiphany was
merely indigestion or do i run pack my bags
and really live for the few years months hours
that remain and how do i tally up the past so
it makes sense in light of how close this thing
lurks
does He give other options when the person
opens door number 3 and finds the monster
can they choose door number 1 or maybe 10
and does it really matter anyway since all
will come to the monster's door someday but
what is really frightening is how i am feeling so
cowardly

existential crisis?

i'm too young to die
i'm too old to live
the wheels are still turning
i've naught left to give

my heart is so full
as i sit here alone
my friends have been many
i'm still on my own

i've built such great castles
but none that are seen
dreamt dreams beyond counting
not sure what they mean

what's left as i ponder
how fleeting life is
isn't held in a hand
or won through a quiz

i may not have mattered
in the grand scheme of things
still this one truth i know
He's worth all life brings

adrift

i rise and walk through dusty days
the heat shimmers off the streets
i lay down my head when day is done
but find no rest between the sheets
days slip by like grains of sand
in an hourglass grown obscure
once i thought a hope was coming
now i think i'm not so sure
i used to tell my wandering feet
faerie tales of a home to come
now my steps seem automated
on a path that's troublesome
i believed i could face anything
because He asked it of me
how little i knew back then
how debilitating nothing can be
i'm still learning how to bear it
this cross like Éowyn a cage
but some nights the glassy expanse
seems too great for courage
don't give in to the emptiness
i whisper as the boat rocks slow
His love never failed me yet
keep waiting for the wind to blow

borrowed time

it's relentless the march that bows to no man
that stops for no woman no matter how she
pleads and as the Pleiades fall on yet another
year gone by i think of how near we sometimes
come to the hourglass running out perhaps
daily the possibility passes us by and we
oblivious to death's soft breath keep laughing
and weeping and arguing until we can no
longer unless sometimes the nearness is
thrust upon us through a moment a cut cord
a machine part that should have failed sending
us hurtling into forever and we pause and i
pause
realize i'm living on borrowed time that i
do not own and as with anything borrowed
i must take good care for i must return it
give an answer for its use even if i can't
quite seem to figure out the purpose in this
hour day year life i must still live knowing
each breath well each breath could be my
last and i don't decide when so i must take
care trust that He who does know has a plan
beyond my railings wanderings longings
this too shall pass but i shall never pass
out of His sovereign relentless arms of love

a jade's trick

he, a friend, once said, perhaps
implored, "don't get jaded," and
i, though far away, have never
forgotten, for long anyway, those
simple words, heartfelt petitions,
since as an idealist, God knows
i've tried not to be, i'm always
swinging, with a rope but tenuous,
at the edge of clarion call, hopeful,
and catastrophe, a run into the
night, but that swinging, taut and
expectant, is far from jaded, coming
from the old word jade, a bitter woman
or a worn-out horse, both, incidentally,
ill-used, and that swinging, that's hope,
but jaded is lost, and i thank that
friend for his words, faithful wounds,
that left a mark, a memory scar,
to remind me, who he knew better
than i knew myself at that time,
so long ago, that this world eats,
devours, the dreamers, romantics,
passionate visionaries, not by dark
dungeons, cages of disuse, but by
apathy, disillusionment, the dearth
left when despair, that persuasive
fiend, stops hope from swinging,
from pauses, commas leading on,
to ends, full stops with nothing after.