Doubt

there is a worm that infests
this valley, that fen.
he eats the hearts of those who dwell there,
consuming always first the men

but that worm I will take in hand
and make him obediant to the lords of the land.
on that line, that line you drew,
on that cool sand, on that line, from you,
I'll make my stand

For now that I know, where my feet they may go,
and know beyond wonder where my hands they may wander,
and am told, without miss, just what I might kiss,
there is no question of quest left now in my chest
So that worm, he is dead, as he's lost all his dread.

for Doubt is a demon of lies,
and general reaking putressence.
but swift is the sword of certainty,
stripping his life of its essence.

down to the dirt will he fall,
and though hardly made of naught,
as the worms' life is done,
he will finally do what he ought,
the twists of his being undone,
he will meet the God he fought.

And we left in peace,
to enjoy the sweet release,
to find a sweet respite,
our foe out of the fight.
Maybe a bit of coast
to do what we like most,
to linger far and free,
and with each other be.

Growth

Demons of Doubt trouble me deeply,
tempting thoughts of twisted Truth twining 'round my wrists.
Rising and afraid, I raise my voice to my Savior:
"Save me Lord!" His sad servant calls.
As a kindness, he quickly comes, murmuring:
My child, My boy, My dear man, I Made thee!"
Moments of Mercy pass between us, beneath us, around and about us. Bliss.

The pain of Doubt, now dead and done. Long dead, in Truth, never living.
That once twisted Truth, now whole and wholesome, does not hinder but helps, ever giving.
Beaten, bruised, broken lies become beautiful gifts from God.
Gold and silver, good and true, gauntlet now my arms.
Hands to hold, hearten and humble, to hurting and healing akin.
For to bear a burden, become a blessing, and be one man among men.

Blessed

How will it be, when the wind blows the clouds about in the sky,
furrowing the heavens with an easle of moisture?
When the very air is bright,
and the ground is covered with light,
playing with the shadows of the leviathans of the air, how will it be?

How will it be, as the waves crash on the Oregon coast,
and the sea salt breeze pushes you so hard that you lean into it to stand straight?
As the cliff you stand on,
water pummeling itself with joy below,
shakes with the force of created goodness,
rocks and stones held together with razor grass roots, how will it be?

As you stand there, air about, clouds above, pushing you in,
As you stand there, cliff beneath, water below, holding you up,
As you stand there, seeing her, through Him, how will it be?