
Hunger for ruin
Blind force to destroy, conquer
An angry God screams
I’ll see you on the other side
Where God makes all things right
After the destruction
Comes the everlasting light
All the things we’ve done
The good and the bad
Are unified and made whole
At last, we understand
“If we cling to belief in God, we cannot likewise have faith, since faith is not clinging but letting go.” – Alan Watts, from The Wisdom of Insecurity
Continue readingTake me to the quiet place in your mind
The one near the winter riverside, sitting on the snowy grass
The trees, they’ve always spoken to me
Even when they’re naked and sleeping
I can’t get away from the noise, the persistent stimulation
So, take me to that quiet place, the one in your mind
We’re far from our roots, the ancestral blood-ground
In your mind, the ground is a living being
When I press my hand to it, it melds, touches me
In that quiet place, the one in your mind
The sun is blocked by blue-cotton clouds
The silence is total, like a warm blanket
The quiet place is so still and peaceful
The problem with sorting out
These probabilities is that
I’ve excluded serendipity
Sometimes, there’s no way
To explain the random chance
Of meeting long-lost loves
Crowded together on street corners
There was a time in my life
When my mind was filled with strife
I was frantic and very lost
And my addictions came with a cost
I like to believe I somehow found God
And his grace shone through and healed me
But spiritual consolation doesn’t last
And faith can be lost to a degree
The journey of faith is a long one
In my depressions I become an atheist
My mind can be frantic and fragile
Manic episodes hit the heaviest
At the end of the rope, there’s hope
Is what the flame-eyed man said
On the edge of the homeless shelter bed
He’d seen it all, he explained, and each
Of us is a grain of sand in an expanding
Universe that’s interconnected
All a string in a vast spider web
Are you a friend or foe?
Truly, I don’t know
You creep around so slow
Then you bestow upon me
A guarantee of immortality
I don’t trust prophets like you
And the grand plans you pursue
You appeared, then withdrew
You claim you want to renew
The Kingdom of God
They talk of footprints
Along the winter sand
Those obscure hints
Of God’s guiding hands
When we’re struggling
We believe God is hiding
It feels so puzzling
When our life is backsliding
Free will must be an illusion
None of us are running the show
I spend my days in utter confusion
My instinctual drives I don’t know
What is destiny? What is fate?
Are these things superstitions?
Let’s gather and have the debate
I’ve always had my suspicions
I believe the subconscious deep within
Has more say than we like to believe
And many of our decisions hinge
On things we cannot perceive