I don’t write like I should
Occasionally a phrase or two
More frequently some praise would do
And infinite world of good
But often it’s the opposite
Parsing parables and prophesy
Clashing colors so you’ll look at me
Where substance sinks
And first drafts stink
I scribble endlessly

It has to come out one way or another
Suffocating self-silos
Can’t be filled with any other
So I pour it out
Fill me up
Pour it out
Fill me up
Pour it up
And feel me out
To see if there’s anything worth salvaging
There’s no perfect rhyme for salvaging
Freestyle thoughts can be challenging
But once in a hundred some truth will ring

Incessantly
The saints will sing
Of eternity and grander things
Of helplessness and reckonings
Of holiness that’s beckoning
Humanity (and even me)
To brand new names
The calamity of anonymity
And a proud persistent claim

That what comes first may not be “right”
But may be worth inspection
That an openness to life and light
Molds our form to heavens reflection

So, keep writing
Keep seeking
Pour it out
Fill me up

Categories: Faith, PoetryTags: art, christianity, creativity, Faith, poem, Poetry, writing