Children joyfully play off in the distance
While birds sing their songs all around.
They know no resistance
To the beauty of nature. And so they make sound.

The children, the birds,
They have no concerns.
They know not of how this world is absurd.
It's true; what Wordsworth wants us to learn.

That something as simple and precious as this moth,
Does not receive the attention due to its worth
That we feel too "busy" to be one with the wild
Too busy to live like a child.

We're told we will live forever.
     I am like the moth in a way.
          This moth is slowly dying and will soon fade.
But our lives are short however.
     For we both are in constant decay.
          And so we admire each other, both as moths, together dying in the shade.

Alarms begin to ring,
Birds are not yet awake to sing.
The room begins to wake,
So that showers they can take.

Back to the deer I remember
Back when I was a member
Of that church I thought I’d never leave,
That church which I couldn't think to leave.

The lights turn on now.
People walk around with their towels.
One light can’t decide to be on or off,
As if to deliberately destroy this morning so soft.

The girls laugh as they get up to ***.
I think I’ll now turn to Isaiah to read.

I sit by the window as I read,
For nature I need to see.
I stretch my arm to the sun's warm heat, Only for a cloud to make the warmth recede.

I look out to the trees,
Hoping to see some life.
It helps to see the trees,
But it hurts to see the towers which above them rise.

Nature I need to remain sane, For these man-made walls mock me. Without nature I am in pain, Within a building I am ashamed.

If only I made time to reconnect with it, That I might in overwhelming peace pray. Then, then I'd be able to omit,
The voice that says "You have to read today."

Often in the corner of our screens we look,
For love from others we seek.
Notifications come flooding in on Facebook,
After we post the usual critique or picture of our physique.

"You look so cute!" the girls want to hear us say
While the guys, "**** dude you were so wasted last night!" makes them feel accepted.
"So and so is going to this event. Why aren't you?" Facebook says; "Display!"
We fear if we don't, we'll not feel connected.

"I can quit whenever I want to."  we say.
Really? I'd like to see you try just one day.
"But my friends need to know what I'm doing and-"
No. Take your mind off the screen and instead lend a helping hand.

I fear the future;
What my offspring will be exposed to,
That instead of encouragement to have adventure,
They will be even more addicted, their faces to the screen ever more glued.

I grew up playing in the dirt out back,
Now, I am told that it's "friends" I lack.
With my brother I played,
We'd sit and drink lemonade.
Now at night I sit in a dark room,
Wearing an online costume.

I hope that instead I will be myself
And not have to prove myself
To the world that I am unique,
That instead I can make shine what was bleak.

I grew up with Legos. You could say, I was "addicted,"
But now by this computer I have been infected.
Yes Facebook can be a useful tool!
We can use it to get together and "act a fool"
With our friends and have a blast,
Or ask questions to our college class.

But if it takes us away from the outside,
If it takes us away from nature's sky,
Then I'd rather quit;
Then I'd rather benefit
From that which God made
And not to which we have become slaves.

That's my two cents on the matter.
I don't mean this to make a clatter.
I don't even want you to "Like"
Or comment on how our thoughts are alike.

Just read and go about your "Facebooking,"
And maybe as we, in life, keep looking,
We'll find the courage to quit overlooking
What we've spent hours on,
What we've sacrificed our short time upon,
That which will hopefully be forgone.

I heard once that life is but a window
That we as birds fly through.
That we are not in limbo,
But that our lives vanish in a time too few.

I've let Facebook take me away from that which is eternal,
I've let it take me away from writing in my journal
About what I've read in the Bible,
Or from how I've come to see how God is vital.

In "All Is For Your Glory" I sing,
"Catch me up in Your story
All my life, for Your Glory"
Yet I stare blankly at the blue and white
And so easily get distracted from "My Delight."

We don't know what say the clock,
For we are too busy, we are alone.
We know not where we walk
'Till we look up from our phones.

How, then, are we to see where our lives are headed?
How, then, are we to see that we are embedded?

What I saw; it's not as I once knew.
What I practiced; it's not how I once grew.
I stood as a growing, but bending tree.
Only to be awakened by a strange and different breeze.

I go now to plant my roots elsewhere,
I go now in search of a different air.
My fellow trees, I hope, will still be within reach,
That our branches' bonds will not grow weak.

I pray that He leads me with His staff,
That I will listen to His will for me.
I hope that I will not be like the chaff,
But instead, by streams of a new water, be like the tree.