Family

Stay near me;
because I am weak all the time
and even more weak other times.

Still call me
Family
When I collapse.

Skinny
and ignorant
vulnerable
stupid.

I falter after emotion.

Stay near me
still call me
Family

because if you don't find my shoulder
to protect me
to keep me
then I'm lost.

So, please
keep me
you're my family.


Fin


So, it's Monday night and I wasn't able to find someone to do somethin with. I think I am going to go play hackey sack at a well lit gas station now that I am done with this poem.

Yarn.

in a second

I didn't sleep last night. I am not very good at sleeping in the first place, but last night...dag. So anyway, when you really tired and really can't sleep you do wierd things to try and fight it (aka try to sleep). Last night I tried keeping my eyes shut for as long as possible. I started probably about 2am and I must have laid there just like that for 3 hours fully concious, but refusing to open my eyes or move. I finally got up to stretch hoping it would make me sleepy. Then I tried again, this time with my head between two pillows. After about another hour of not moving or opening my eyes, I got to thinking about Heaven, the removal of sin from relationships, and seeing God face to face. It's a beautiful group of things to think about. I finally moved the pillow to see what time it was and thought, "Man who is shinning their headlights into my window...holly crap it's morning"

If I hadn't been so tired I would have laughed, cuz I guess that is prolly how paradise will come on us as well.



More than watchmen wait for the morning
You will be the light by which we see

When we walk through the wheat fields
and fear nothing at our sides

When the separations are over
and the arms length is gone

When the long night is dead
and the day has finally come

More than watchmen wait for the morning
We wait for paradise.

An Interrupting Voice

Hurried movement,
is this road;
A constant
restless pace

There must be a thing
or at least an end.
eventually...
Somewhere ahead

I'm self convinced
that there's a reason,
For always moving
on this road.

some running flat.
some wearing packs.
unsettled in
one direction.

teeth gritting
even clawing
always, always,
movement.

But I want
to finish
to arrive...
...I am tired

after so long
In heated movement
I fear I am dying
without finding...it,
the thing or the end

One voice interrupts
but it takes time
to cut my stare
from the road.

"You're dying"
He says,
"and there is nothing,
no end"

then through kicked dust
and the trample of footsteps
I see him.
I stop.
I understand.

Nothing, no end.
Just Him
and now
Rest