no good, not in ourselves, motes in sunbeam.
The same sword pierces through us meme by meme.
as fate’s machinery, mates’ hates, near fear,
all grinding of sandpaper in our lives --
backbiting comments, flat tyres, nagging wives --
conspire to rob us of free, fragile peace
where it makes sense to quest for golden fleece.
We believe we live forever in the Word,
not out of it: the sword that pierces through,
the First and Second Comings' “...all things new”
"...is within you"! Now, comforted and spurred,
to speak of He who is our bitten tongue,
our tact, our managed temper, each good deed.
His way He works in us, so seldom sung,
fosters humanity in us indeed
who were brute beasts before His spirit lit
us, next explained flown evil thoughts as flood,
thus how led land lay. Pulled one from the pit,
He did: out of mire muck, out of the mud,
out of the Mariana Trench where one preened, prone
to absence of executive control
with callous arrogance, heart hard young stone,
a rutting chimpanzee's worth of lost soul.
…Love happened in one’s living room, vast joy
not an emotion but His living mind.
He really does love veering humankind.
He frees us to be far more than a toy.
