Two screws in a week have turned loose.  
Upholstery? It's needin' a boost.  
So off to the carpenter's place,  
A quick calming break  
    From our daily rat-race.

The faithful go daily,  
    you know,  
For it keeps their spirit  
    aglow.  
Though weekly's required  
    to stay ruddy and clear,  
Pray for those that come
    just once a year.

Just as the chair  
    starts ever to fade,  
Our soul needs its care  
    to keep it well-made.  
A heart, left untouched,  
    becomes cloudy, unclear,  
But the carpenter's polish  
    wipes cloudy tears.

For the carpenter can fix in a jiff  
A heart that has hardened too stiff;  
And when soul's window pane  
Has grown cloudy again,  
    he'll wash it and call it a gift!

“It’s the new sensation that’s gripping the nation!”
It is the greatest thing humanity has ever seen,
a phone with a touch screen…

Everyone has one now,
it’s as normal as having fingers
an extension of our arms.

Pinterest, Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr…
all have to be checked, watched, updated.
I have to spill my guts to a screen behind which hides strangers.

“I know you. from Facebook.”  That’s what they all say.
The thing is I don’t know you,
you are the person who found me through a mutual friend
a mutual friend of a mutual friend.

I don't know you,
You haven’t updated your feed in months.
you know me though.

Last week on twitter you saw I had posted that I was feeling depressed.
Two nights ago on Instagram that picture of me at a party
today at lunch, on Facebook I posted a tribute for my second cousin.
a mutual friend.

there is no sensation…
I have a callous on each of my fingertips
the overheating screen no longer burns my hands.
the glow no longer irritates my eyes.

The phone with a touch screen,
sending us information from all of time and space
From love and tragedy.
From the good and bad

Every day I post what happens in my life.
the good the bad and the ugly
as cliche as it is there is no other way to say it.

Everyday I read about other people’s happy endings and good deeds
I read about the people who have conquered the world’s evils.
then I open a new tab and read about the ones who lost.
The girl who gave into the need of some comfort and let him do it
The boy who believed that he was so unloved he jumped it
The girl who starved to death so she could be skinny in the casket
The boy who is hurt by his parents so he hurts others to make up for it
The girl who finds the razor behind the shelf in the bathroom and uses it
The boy who takes the drugs to escape it
The girl who goes to prison for stealing it
The children who don't know what to do.

Because that’s the truth,
this is what the phone has done.
we can’t feel anymore.
there is no emotion in a text message.
on social media.

there are only empty word of condolences and congratulations
the only honest thing online is hate
hate to another person because you can’t stand the idea
That they can still feel
and you lost that ability when you let the phone pull your soul out and dump it in a database
called Facebook, Instagram, and twitter.

They own you now,
they tell you what you are
who you are
and who you’re going to be.

the world’s greatest invention is what’s going to **** us.

Knowledge is butterflies in flight.
A doubting caterpillar needs
Faith in metamorphosis—
Without it, his future: horror.

Mother’s gone this way before.
Father left before his time.
The only hope: whispered instinct,
A still sound in the face of fear.

"Those who’ve gone before me," says he,
"Loved me and wanted good for me.
They willed me to believe in life
Beyond the metamorphosis."

The Path

Every day, eat of leaf. Chew. Rest.
Do not wander far from safety.
Heed these rules, follow the way,
Know that they were made from love.

Brother speaks of tall adventures,
Wonders waiting, joys untold.
"Why wait? Why fear? Why hope at all?
Come—enjoy the world right now!"

The Temptation

"Metamorphosis is a lie,"
He says. "A tale they tell to keep
Us from pleasure, from delight,
From tasting all the world can give."

"The dark cocoon is but a grave—
A trap, a tomb, an ending final.
Now is time to discover!
What tastes good is the true good."

Brother leaves the path behind,
Feasts on leaves forbidden, rich.
"Come!" he calls, "the map is false!
The world is wider than they claim."

Sister listens, follows after,
Seeking flavors never known.
She is gone—he hopes she thrives.
But she has not returned.

The Choice

Yet here, our friend, the doubting one,
Has chosen dreams and chosen hope.
He eats the leaves of toil and faith,
Nourishing body, heart, and soul.

He trusts the wisdom passed through time,
Holds firm to instinct’s ancient pull.
A gentle voice inside still whispers:
"This road leads to something more."

The Chrysalis

Doubt still lingers, fear still fights.
The chrysalis looms, dark and tight.
No control—nature compels.
He spins his silk in trembling trust.

Unfair, afraid, the world grows still.
The walls press close—no breath, no light.
He faces his end. He must choose:
To listen to the still, small voice.

"I am not mad. I am not lost.
There is more beyond this dark."

Silence. Darkness. Stillness.

The Fulfillment

And then—wings.

Butterflies are knowledge in flight.
At their end, faith is fulfilled.
They rise, they soar, they drink the nectar
Promised beyond the cocoon.

Emotion is a wild beast, dangerous and unpredictable,
But when it is collared by reason and trained by self-discipline,
it becomes our greatest strength.

Take me off the pedestal
I am not what you see
That man's a miscreation
It's what i'd like to be

Take me off the pedestal
For it is far too high
For if I trip, slip, or fall
You'll think I was a lie

Take me off the pedestal
One cannot comprehend
To think 'tis where I stand
Make me not king, but friend

Take me off the pedestal
I've never felt so wrong
But please, oh please keep me in
your heart- that's right where I belong

Life is a journey,
A hike through your own
Forest of pain and woe;

A walk becoming;
A trip through your time;
A course to fields of peace.

Walk well on the path
You have now chosen
And heed the age-worn ways.

Embrace the challenge
Of forging the Way.
The end is ever near.

On what should you feed
On the journey life?
Will you be nourished well?

How shall you strengthen
the you, becoming?
Feast on the Bread of Life!

Food for the journey,
Feeding the Body,
And nourishing your soul.

Love made incarnate,
Broken and portioned,
The feast for life is Life.