Anarchy

As the Psalmist said,
“Why do the heathen rage,
And the peoples imagine a vain thing.”

The incessant ranting and raving,
Continuously roars out its rage and hate.
The chasms between us widen,
In the echo chambers of our separate tribes,
And their self preaching to their choir.

A confusion of tongues;
A Babel of sound.
Pressing down upon us,
Grinding us down.

No middle ground.
No place of meeting.
Left to ourselves in idolatry and pride;
Reaping what we sow.
Sowing to the wind;
Reaping the whirlwind.

We would not have Him rule over us,
So are left to rule ourselves,
In the cosmic anarchy and chaos,
Of the choices we have made;
While shaking our fists into the sky.

© May 2018, all rights reserved

memory...

As I contemplate the years;
How swiftly they flew by,
All those long gone younger days
From once upon a time.

The history we have lived,
The stories we could tell;
Lingering in our memory
Of heaven, earth, and hell.

Feeling it keener every day,
Our mortality drawing near;
Every breath and step we take;
Becomes so very much more dear.

The things we did or did not do;
All the choices we have made;
Have set the pathway of our life;
Steered the course of our life's way.

Our path entwined with many paths
Of those we knew along the way;
Shadows and ghosts in our memory,
Some forgotten, but many stayed.

Hither to the Lord has helped me
Unto this time of life I've came.
To the end He will be with me,
All praise and glory to His name.

J. Willaim Newcomer, October, 2012

Death, be not proud (Holy Sonnet 10) by John Donne

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou are not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou'art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy'or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

Excerpt from The Aeneid (1)

Oh friends, who greater sufferings still have borne,
(For not unknown to us are former griefs,)
The deity will also give an end,
To These, You have approached the furious rage
Of Scylla and her hoarse resounding cliffs.
You the Cyclopean rocks have known full well.
Recall your courage; banish gloomy fears.
Someday perhaps the memory of these things
Shall yield delight. Through various accidents,
Through many a strait of fortune, we are bound
For Latium, where our fates point out to us
A quiet resting place. There its decreed
Troy's kingdom shall rise again. Be firm,
And keep your hearts in hope of brighter days.

(The Aeneid, Virgil, Book I)

This quote is from the speech of Aeneas to his companions after being swept by a storm upon the coast of Africa near the city of Carthage.

(Quotes from Virgil's Aeneid are from the translation by Christopher Pearse Cranch, 1872)

"The Alchemist" by Patricia St. John

My Master an elixer hath that turns
All base and worthless substances to gold.
From rubble stones He fashions palaces
Most beautiful and stately to behold.
He garners with a craftsman's skillful care
All that we break and weeping cast away.
His eyes see uncut opals in the rock
And shapely vessels in our trampled clay.
The sum of life's lost opportunities,
The broken friendships, and the wasted years,
These are His raw materials;
His hands rest on fragments, weld them with His tears.
A patient Alchemist! --He bides His time,
Broods while the south winds breathe, the
North winds blow,
And weary self, at enmity with self,
Works out its own destruction, bitter slow,
Our gallant highways petered out in mire,
Our airy castles crumbled into dust,
Leaving us stripped of all save firece desire,
He comes, with feet deliberate and slow,
Who counts a contrite heart His sacrifice.
(No other bidders rise to stake their claims,
He only on our ruins sets a price.)
And stooping very low engraves with care
His name, indelible, upon our dust;
And from the ashes of our self-despair
Kindles a flame of hope and humble trust.
He seeks no second site on which to build,
But on the old foundation, stone by stone,
Cementing sad experiance with grace,
Fashions a stronger temple of His own.

An Ordinary Woman’s Extraordinary Faith - The Autobiography of Patricia St. John; Harold Shaw Publishers, Wheaton, IL; (1993) pgs. 297-298

Well May the Heavens Weep

Well may the heavens weep
On such a day as this.
When such a one we loved so well
Is laid in the ground's abyss.

Well may the sky with tears drip down
For the one we so adored.
Oh death will not be so proud
On the resurrection morn.

(Copyright © October, 2010. All rights reserved.)

Sheer Joy

We will race through the streets of gold,
Running for the sheer joy and delight.
We will romp and play in the meadows of grass in the garden of God,
Playing tag among the trees of life by the river of the water of life.
We will laugh for joy, being little children once again;
Un-wearied in our play.

Quiet times there will be too.
Just sitting and contemplating the glory of all,
Communing in soul and spirit
With looks of the heart, understanding one another
In perfect peace and communion.

In seeing our delight and joy,
Our peace and happiness,
His smile will be upon us;
We, His children in whom He delights and joys.
We will love Him perfectly with heart and soul,
And the imperfect love we have here for one another
Will be perfected there forever;
A joy unspeakable and full of glory.

( May 13, 2000. Copyright © May 2000 all rights reserved.)

as though a goddess

It was as though you were a goddess,
Though I know you mortal be,
And both time and age
Will take their toll on thee.

A moment of beauty and youth,
As if a glimpse of eternity;
What may have been had not
Our parents eaten from the tree.

Time takes its toll on us all
In this broken world you see;
But in a brief moment of youthful beauty
Was a hint of earth redeemed.

(Copyright © 2009 All rights reserved.

(In this poem I am using the word "goddess" in the way I believe C.S. Lewis would have used it.)

Lives Touching Briefly

Lives touching briefly,
Touching one another for a moment of time.
Passing on after that brief moment
To their separate ways;
Not always knowing
What has been left in each other’s heart.
Nor how deep such things can go,
Down into the very depths of soul.
Each living with choices each has made.
Each living the time Providence has gave.
Each to that duty to which God has called.
Very rare it is indeed
Such paths to cross again in life.
What is left is memory,
And that place deep down in the heart.
That longing for Eternity,
When all of His a heart ever loved
Are again together, to never part.

(May 30, 1998, copyright © 1998, All right reserved.)

Seperate Paths

Many years ago it was,
The paths of our lives
Went along side by side,
Along the way God gave each to trod.
Part of each other’s life it seemed,
Sharing hopes and dreams
And other things that we believed.

I can remember though,
When in my mind I could see,
Our paths were to part to their separate ways.
Yours up the side of a mountain steep,
But I along a lower place
My path would take my feet.

And as I saw it in my mind,
It actually came to pass.
Our paths did part.
No more seen or heard.
Paths parting with hardly a word.

I often wondered over the years
How your path has been.
What joys, what tears,
What dreams and fears,
Your path to you did send.

I still have some confidence
One day before His glorious throne
Our paths will come together again.
As each of the paths He gave us to trod,
Will bring us to His Home.

(August 1, 1998, copyright © 1998, All right reserved.)