Our Glass of Time…

February 26, 2014

Somewhere between this
Hardened earth and these open skies,
Confused,
I fell into
Some soul-colored “why’s!?”

Of mustered make-believe,
And then murky malcontent,
And with all the well-wishes
I wish I’d ever wished
My trying was spent
Instead
On things that were never meant

To be,
And here I am,
But where are we?

What are we?

Who are we?

Are we- We?

Or are you,
So beautifully,
Boldly you,
And am I
So
Only… me?

The pain in pushing such sticky questions
Into the front of my mind,
Is that they drag so many other things
Across the surface, and I find

All sorts of scabbed over wounds
That never fully healed.

And here I am, again-
Again!
Like a dry, dusty,
Looked-over field.

Will my harvest
Ever even grow?
Will my Master
Ever get to know

The joy of seeing
His fruit in me?
Or is this- this dust!
All He’ll ever see?

I don’t WANT that to be,
I wish there was more.
I want now to be about
What He has in store,

And to grow it,
Fight for it, strong!
But… -gaaaahhh!
It’s such a bitter wind,
And it’s blown so cold
For SO… long,
That I’m not sure I can
Shake this winter.
I’m not a mailman;
I’m a fair-weather sprinter,

And, You know me, God;
I get winded
By the fifth house,
Even on a sunny day.
Am I a man,
Or is this man a mouse?
(Well, hey-

I’m actually not sure I’m either, to be honest.
I mean,
I thought I was a field a few seconds ago,)
Aaaand here we are again, I know.
I know-

Ohhh!!!

I feel it:
The weight of what
I really just
Don’t know.

I read a guy said,
Sometime ago,
That despair is for those
Who certainly know

The end
Beyond all doubt,
But that’s a cat
Who’s rarely let out

Of the bag beforehand.
I mean, who knows what lies
Because of- beneath-
Within the sand

Of the hourglass
-Of our glass- of time
Never before been emptied?
Is it signed?

Well, I sure haven’t seen it.
Although, sometimes I try to tip the thing-
To take a peek at the underside,
Or shake the peak of the sand inside

To- y’know- settle it.
Or… I imagine: if it’s metal it
Would be easier to manipulate then.

So I make me a magnet
-A post-modern memory-
To let me suck up
All the shavings of the future’s past,
and order it all
Neatly-

But Dad said no.
No magnets next to His-
Computer?

-His hourglass.

And as I watched the hours

Pass
And slide,

And the moments
Tumble
Down the
Sssslopes
Of yesterday’s yesterday

I
Cried,

Because in my soul I knew to rearrange it
Would be a lie.
To try to contain it
Would be to fly

In the face!
Of all that’s really good-
Even if it might lay there,
…forever misunderstood…

I’d rather be hurt
And
Obey
My
God,

Knowing
I did what I should’ve,
Than to wallow in the muddy aftermath
Of the trying
For what I must’ve been wrong
About thinking I would’ve

Wanted.

Because- for as cliche as the saying sounds-
The truth of that frrrrrrustrating phrase
Resounds:

“Father
Knows
Best”

Contrary to this
Unsettling lust
Pounding in my chest.

I pray He takes all of my
Desires
-Fanning His righteous,
Holy fires-

And destroys the ones
That threaten to
Douse the good
He’d have me do.

I’m Your’s, Father.
God, I’m Yours,
and I trust You
To make my paths straight
And to open
All the
Necessary doors.

I’m giving up.
I’m giving in.
Take all of me.
I surrender.
My past, my sin,

It no longer defines
Who I am.
I’m asking You to move me-
Your Spirit;
Your plan.

Let’s do this, God,
-You’n me-
Let’s go,
For Your glory-

Even through my ultimate low
Hope shines
Through
Obedience.
Still
I gotta say, sometimes
I try to ride that fence,

But
I WANT
To be open.
I really do.
Please, let me
Fall into You.

Tonight, I trust You,
God,
I know You’re good.
You have made
Me
New
Where I never could.

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One Response to “Our Glass of Time…”

  1. Isaac Says:

    Michael, this is amazing. I’m glad you’re righting again. And that God blessed you with the ability to write poetry like this. As always you’re an inspiration. (And not just because the poetry is well written.)


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