• [CHRISTIA] New Poetry, "What the Sliver Sees"

    From Mark@1:396/4 to Practical Christian Life on Sun Jun 14 12:57:45 2020
    From: lamppoet@CENTURYTEL.NET (Mark)

    I want the bottom line to be simplicity.



    "What the Sliver Sees"



    ("Son of man, the ones living in these ruins in the land of Israel are
    saying, 'Abraham was only one man, yet he possessed the land, but we are
    many; surely the land has been given to us for a possession.'" Ezekiel
    33:24)



    The moment our numbers reach a peak, our towers loom above the
    jet streams that streak across the sky; the moment we've made a million, counted the membership fuller than a beehive; Pride



    Is the slight breath that blows our towering egos to totter and sway
    the way an elephant on skates loses momentum, and cannot find
    gravity's center for the life of him.



    Hand me my profit, today's bottom line is higher than yesterday.
    Hand me my commission, I'm ready to spend it now
    and next year the same. Watch the graph point to the sun,
    we've added on and jammered on, led interested buyers on
    enlightening tours of exactly how to build it better with nothing more



    Than staying late to close accounts and learn a handbook full of
    redefinitions. And, I'm happy to say, the building is still bustling,
    the roof is renewed and the money keeps flowing through
    the front door into the anxious pockets that own everything they see.



    But a handful smell the tar that constantly fills the holes,
    a sliver see the misdirection that keeps the bodies inside the building
    so those who enter are counted with the exiting and reports are doubled
    like lightning.



    There is a new creation that never aspires to awards and plaudits,
    but, in horizontal architectures, builds across the boundaries that
    counted some in with money to spend, and some out until near the
    end of another business day. A new creation enwrapping every
    block on the street, bum on the avenue, executive at the bus stop;
    every junk shop, swap meet, back street and front row seat. A
    New Creation where everyone's view is the best view in the house.



    The walls are sand now, fortifications unemployed. The guntowers
    and turrets
    are belfries and steeples now; the sales charts ripped from the wall
    while
    new songs older than creation fill the hearts and throats of all
    willing to love bridges more than the
    barricades of yesterday.





    Bridged,

    mark p.

    lamppoet@centurytel.net



    Mark's Blog

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