What good am I
To a world that's in need
Of Jesus Christ
If in me, he they don't see
If I'm not willing to make
The sacrifice
Lay down my life
What good am I

What good am I
To a world that is lost
If I am not willing
To pay the cost
To swim in the truth
That they need to find
In the river of live
What good am I

What good am I
To a world on its death bed
Do I bring it the comfort
On which to lay its head
Do I show them that Jesus
Is the way, truth, and life
If I don't show them with mine
Then what good am I

My search
For a higher power
Eluded me;
Thank God
I found our
Poetry.

If you'll allow me,
I'll be the booming voice,
Or the low murmur,
You stiffled,
Long ago,
In your head.
But I won't allow you
To muzzle me.

I'll depart this world,
Leaving it three times better
Than this entrance.
Ha! You've already formulated
Your argument, beginning with
*******,
And concluding with
Deluded.
My counter proposal has
Three hypotheses:
Kathleen, Maggie and Andrea.

Is it the falling rain
as it creates a clear sheet,
a cool blanket upon the earth?
Or is it in
the ripples
that form,
and disappear,
along the water’s surface?
Is it the taste
of burnt coal
and ashes
in
your
lungs
as you watch
the past
go up in smoke?
Could it be
along the nighttime streets
as you wander
in search for
where you belong?
Have you found it
under the light
of an
iridescent moon;
in silent reflection
as you reminisce
of Halcyon days?
Is it in
the aftertaste
of their fingers
intertwined
with yours,
or perhaps
in the whispers of
I
Love
You
residing in
the distant past.