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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Let All Living Flesh Condemn Me! Let all living flesh condemn me! May my living serve God’s will (not what I dream, not what I own)! This World IS God’s; I know ‘my’ place. I can’t know God is real, but who trusts God’s a fake? Which one’s the joke? The World exists, I’m part of it, but World’s not mine! This much seems clear! Let hope persist (that God exists); there IS no prospect we are God! We may fear that our death’s certain and yet count night’s dreams a thrill (who greet, renewed, each day’s rude dawn) but who’s the author, if not Grace? Is evolution what I’d choose to bare His soul (less shape, more smoke)? Our will embraces God’s true form, or God embraced (His breast held dear) your soul before Eve’s breast knew milk? Can Grace be less? How is this odd? Let all living flesh condemn me! May my life still bring God smile (the fears I fight, the sins denied) whose good must fail, whose works float ark! Not one’s more sinful than a baby, lives by sucking life from frail who too needs helpers to survive, to keep both mom and child alive!) Yet who is dearer to Creator? God’s sweet realm’s true home for ‘child.’ (1) I know well that I’m no saint, but show me please where you see guile (I build myself at your expense?) May words be gifts, coax fire from spark, and you discover love is fashioned, in a poem’s pure spun grail that is not gold but still holds nectar, bees can process in their hive. So sweet’s the honey, truth that’s gathered, soft as infant’s skin and mild! Long Tooth November 22, 2020 Poet’s Note: Please notice the unusual meter used in this poem, ie., ---_---_ etc., and my use of what I call 'Distant Rhyme' that helps to give many of my more recent poems (that rhyme perfectly) a more conversational feel. (1) “Jesus said, ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.’” — Matthew 19:14 (NIV)
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