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Old: A Poem

randomlychad  —  July 25, 2017 — Leave a comment

Looking in the mirror and what do I see?
Whose is this face staring back at me?
Familiar in outline, but foreign in detail
Craggy, careworn features all over prevail

But who is he?

Is this me?

Inside, he feels the same small boy
Curious, quick, and ruddy of mind
Rich inside life bringing joy
But somewhere, having lost track of time

The visage reflected, as in a mirror darkly
Yet somehow still so very, very starkly

Shows one thing above all others:

The face is

Old

Beating our fists bloody at inexorable air, trying to defy the passage of time, we find–at the end of the line–our bodies, our hearts, our minds

Fail

As we decline into that good night.

Our rage a peripatetic fit, the fight unwinnable…

Until:

The inexorable slide is swallowed up in the tide of the grace of an ineffable God.

Our bodies made new, our minds renewed:

Free at last from sin’s crimson stains, the mortal takes on immortality

Only joy remains

Only joy.

image

Do you see them, there upon the horizon?

Clouds are rising.

The wind howls with a banshee screech.

The Earth shudders beneath your feet.
image

Creation groans, gasping out a last sigh:

You are Noah, and the end is nigh.

Will you weather the storm, afloat upon a boat called hope?

Or will you drown, sucked down in a whirlpool tide of trials and cares?

Life and death lay before you, Noah.

What will you do? Where, who, is your ark?

Science Can

randomlychad  —  September 4, 2013 — 7 Comments

Science can

Tell us how much a heart weighs

(Down to the gram)

Chart the process of decay

(This, the measure of a man?)

But it can’t tell us where the soul goes:

For life is more than chemicals

Gravity Well

randomlychad  —  September 1, 2013 — Leave a comment

Like the moon we see, are we:
Locked in orbit around Another,
In thrall to its gravity

The sun to our earth, and our north star
Whom travelers sought from afar,
Both the Father and the mother

Commingled in
Bethlehem

But no rough beast is He
Rather, the consolation of history

And our hearts shrink, and swell,
For there’s no escaping
This gravity well