The Infidel

He cursed the light

that once dispelled his darkness;

He blew the flame out

and stepped into the darkness

whence he came.

The light was but a flick'ring flame:

no real warmth, no steady light

it gave.

The candle-bearers all

were walking in darkness still

(though showing off their candles);

they hurt him with their candle sticks:

candle flames burning soft thin skin.

Not enough to make a martyr's pyre,

But enough to make an infidel.

And the light died out

– 'twas his wish –

Yet his soul cried out:

"Let there be light!"


Have I time to listen truly

To the still small voice of Heaven?

'Tis to mortal ears not given,

But the broken heart hears clearly.

I seek solitude most often;

In the silences I listen:

Learn to love His voice more fully;

"Not my will be done – Thine only!" 

The Poet

Do dreamers still row their boats

In the soft and misty air?

I used to be one of them –

Starry-eyed and impractical.

My fingers knew how to push a pen

But bread was not forth-coming.

So rather than starve and drop

I chose to plant my feet on earth;

At least, assured of daily bread,

Some sort of peace was well in place,

Not to mention “respectability”!

“At last he’s come to his senses!”

But I lost so much, which no one knew:

I lost the sense of who I was

(I mean the truth of who I really was).

I was so distant from myself;

I knew not how to find me. How

Can I be lost when I am here?


The stars I held so gently in my hands

Died out last night and turned to dust.

My eyes no longer shine and sparkle

(I am a man engaged in serious things).

“Balder the beautiful is dead.” I weep!

"Balder the beautiful is dead." I sleep …

A Romans 7 Poem

For we know that the law is spiritual, but I am of the flesh, sold under sin. I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.” (Romans 7:14-15)

Dark recesses,
Grave offenses,
Why, my heart is truly hell!
Will is helpless,
All seems hopeless,
God alone can make me well

Wash me whiter,
This my prayer;
Tho’ the devil holds me fast
Thou can sever
and deliver,
Give the victory at last!

O my Master,
Keep me ever;
Save me from this sinful mass.
Flesh will never
Be the victor
If Thy Spirit strengthen us.

Dead I reckon
Self – a lesson
Hard to learn, but learn I must.
Trust God’s reason;
Spirit, lead on!
Do Thou pardon – Thou the Just.

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