Archive for the ‘Prose’ Category

Oh Lord,

You know of my secret trepidation. This fear that is staunchly seated in the very depths of me of apathy and stagnation. When I read that You are never-changing, this is my greatest comfort, and my very anxiety. Death, be it Heaven or hell, suffuses images of the “same,” and this sameness speaks a metaphorical death. What I yearn for and desire, an eternity of unending felicity, I hope, at times, will never come.

But I forget that the flame undulates and flickers, and that the wind rustles the fallen leaves into a natural sojourn from one place to the next. I forget that the sun burnishes the sky with a deluge of ebullient iridescence from morning to night.

I forget that the most glorious of earthly memories cannot possibly compare to the infinitesimal beauty of Heaven.

And I forget that You love me and know my fear. I forget that You love me in spite of my fear.

Therefore, when I die, I will know, I will assent, and I will trust in You.


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An Old Man By the Road

He might have been a grandfather – the ancient creases of memories upon his face and hands, and I imagine a child on his knee, and a twinkle in his eye – except for the derelict lawnchair he sat on, and his curious decision to position it by the side of the road, with a small notebook in hand, watching cars drive by too fast to take notice of the curious scene merely inches away from their busy lives traveling to and fro and there and here, and this way and that way, all the while being noted of in an insignificant book by an insignificant man who chooses to watch and record the world as it unfolds before his tired eyes, so used to reading plot, and seeing storyline, that just to sit and witness the steady stream of come-and-go is a relief and remedy for the monotony of life, marking down each person that passes by to later speculate about, and feel sorrow for, and even experience the slightest hint of envy.

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