Ladies and gentlemen, my friends, family, and folks, thank you so much for making my book Atheists and Empty Spaces, the #1 new bestseller in Inspirational and Religious Poetry off-and-on for two days running. It has fallen pretty considerably today, somewhere around #100. I did not mention that it rose as high as #77 in the General Poetry category. That may not seem too awesome, but for a day or so, it was two spots behind Milton's Paradise Lost and five spots behind Maya Angelou's Selected Poems. That is not bad company to be in--and it is all because you are willing to support me. Thank you.
Today's picture is one that Kellie took of an amazing white flower that we found on a daily jaunt around the Fulton County fairgrounds. There was only one of these flowers in any field, and we had never seen one like it before--ever as far as I can remember. Two days later, Luna (our dog) and I were walking, and the field was full of them. Anybody know what they are?
Anyway, today's two poems as one poetic offering are explorations of unique relationships with what I will call a "higher power." One is from is from a human point-of-view, and one is from a flower's point of view. The two meld together to suggest that even though thoughts, ideas, and beliefs may be slightly different, they do not matter when the end is the same. As I have been doing with this entire set of poems, these are very musically oriented, and, if I could play music, I would set them to music. Maybe, somebody with talent could do that for me.
As always, I want to hear from you. I want to know what you think. Email me, comment in Facebook, or contact me through the blog. Most of all, ENJOY!
Two Versions of One Psalm
A Psalm Filled with Doubt
(To Be Set to Music)
I do not think he made my heart
A tender budding shoot
That withers before winter’s start
And shivers in its root.
I have a doubt he spent one hour
Focusing his ample power
On the blooms of one plain flower
When he made billions more.
I do not think he mows me down
Nor bends my fragile stem
With righteous anger, wind, or storm.
What is my pain to him?
Why would he stoop to serve me wrath
Or place sharp prickles in my path
When he wipes clean in one blest bath
The mortal dust I wore?
I’ve heard the burbling of a fool
Who equals him with luck,
But he is neither kind nor cruel,
Lightning withheld nor struck.
He is not fate nor circumstance;
He does not fill my life with chance
Though in his eye, I’m just a glance,
And then, I am no more.
A Psalm Filled with Faith
(To Be Set to Music)
I love the way she made my heart
A tender budding shoot
That gathers deep at winter’s start
And pulses in its root.
Then, when the sun is out an hour,
She focuses my blooming power
And I create one tiny flower
While she stirs billions more.
I love the way she holds me down
And keeps my fragile stem
Safe from the angry wind and storm.
What have I done to them?
What did I do to rouse their wrath?
I wish I’d never cross their path
Except I need a soaking bath
To wet the bloom I bore.
I heard a climbing, vining fool
Call our dear Mother “Luck,”
But she is always kind not cruel,
A blow withheld not struck.
She wields my fate, not circumstance;
She does not leave my life to chance
Though in her eyes, I’m just a glance,
And then, I am no more.
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