I Live To Write
I live to write though life's a whore
That f**ks the ones I love and more,
Who leaving, fly to Ecuador
Or someplace South that I don't know,
Feel certain though that words don't grow
Or blossom there! My poem's snow?
Was Christ a liar? Does Man's seed live?
What greater gift than Grace to give
To poet. "I AM, " I FORGIVE!
Our planet dies (with God, who fights?)
Consumed by 'sundry' appetites!
Reborn! New elements see lights,
Seed stars, where Physics' Law's speak Word
Of God in volumes! (What's absurd?)
Man's poetry takes wing, a bird
That finds itself among the stars.
In ash, like Jupiter and Mars,
Old Gods, now music's notes on bars
He lives to pen again, it seems!
Let Humor wend way to His dreams,
God's Love leak through eternal seams.
Brian Johnston
23rd of June in 2019
Poet's Notes:
Lord, grant that my poem faithfully echoes Christ's prayer,
"Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me:
nevertheless, not my will, but thine, be done."
What more can any man say, what greater love can any man
demonstrate? If we are not God's children, then whose?
And may God in new wisdom do even better next time (if
there is one) !
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