Promptus

Doesn't my heart strain for my friends
as we pull on our clothes each morning?

Don't I love them,
want to see them?

Is it sole love that pushes us,
out the door, with the speed we tread.

Are we blind then,
do we see then?

Could my bones be steel and my face of diamond,
I would cut a path for you.
Clear the sound for you, smash the screens for you,
break the engines for you, until all is quiet and you can hear.

One clear voice filled with blood and compassion.

World Champion

You are on the train that says
"I am not running out of rope."

Because of these things they're yours
no eye lines, no cell seen dying.

You soak them in yourself
of a false permanence.

Still, you, them, and me are always dying
With dust falling from us each step.
An inch from Where the Earth crests and ends
Where we all go and divert
Where the shadow consumes some
and for others merely passes.

You shine for a mere convincing second before you die.
There is no quaint Jesus here, only a real live God.