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Art, Poetry
Lucha Loco, Singapore I found in my soul a weary journeyer Facing two different paths attracting Two distinct caverns in a heart That is miraculously still shining Both paths diverging under his shoes Both paths starting equally bright For he starts uninitiated to the night And still mistakes the shiny with light On the darkening road were lambs Bright-eyed, simple-minded, smiling But now starting to see the dimming And quickly finding that they’re dying But the other road, seeming narrow Leads to such bright a light that one Is both appealed and appalled by it Just as we wonder at and fear the sun Somehow, by inhuman revelation I can see beyond to the source of bright A majestic, powerful, wounded lion Spilling his blood that is a glorious light Encroaching on the shadowy path Just as the day defeats the night The lion roars a loud call to the traveler Inviting him to spill his own heart’s light That is glowing brighter within him Though he wrestles with choices Between the many loves of a heart Whispered to by a million voices To go one way is not to travel the other So he chooses and fearfully takes the lane Of the thin path by clear, still waters Towards the roaring lion’s mane #db
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When the dream is great but the skill is weak When the lofty goal beacons and taunts When the seriousness of the moment is lost When the isolation of the calling haunts There, within challenge, is character wrought When people opine, criticize, and talk When many share the excitement but not the burden When the empty drums are revealed for who When the boys have no choice but be men There, within necessity, is greatness bought When man and woman can only work in the bright When the lack of an ideal leads to impotence When human reflection is as shallow as me When I need a new perspective, a new lens In dark days’ devotions, You I sought #db
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Devotions, Poetry
I don’t know a lot, much less understand enough My only discoveries are Matrushkas of questions And like cells, they multiply, faster than I can hold So I must rely on Your voice for wise revelations Of which of the infinite paths to walk securely down, Of which open doors to shut, which to boldly enter And to define the comings and goings of my day That I may never stray from Your love’s center For as my namesake once prayed in a poem, “Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me!” I experience this loving care in Your disciplines Creating in me the capacity to live miraculously Blessed is man that Your love for him is so great That second and seventh chances are not beyond You And with all my faults, with all my fears and doubts They all melt away as I stand here in worship of You #db
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