Table salt without pleasing flavor is useless,
like a weak Christian lacking “good works”;
for the World is in need of divine examples
of how to live within the Kingdom’s framework.

There are many souls craving spiritual waters,
to have their endless abyss of thirst quenched.
Are we testifying of God’s Love to reach those
in strongholds- where they’re firmly entrenched?

Unless there are obvious and significant change
in the personal behavior of our everyday lives,
the World will have no real motivation for faith
when there’s no evidence of transcendent lives.

We’re still called to be the salt of this planet,
demonstrating victorious lives as saved brothers;
As Christians, we’re supposed to add loving flavor.
We’re responsible for generating thirst in others!
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Author Notes

Loosely based on:
Matt 5:13; Jam 2:14-26

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
  
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.

The desert
Is dry,
My thirst
Unsatisfied,
May the dew
From the thighs,
Of the motherland
Amplify.

When my lips
Reach to sip
& my tongue
Is fortified,

I cannot stop
Until nature ****
And our beings
Emulsify.

To the just Lord
She crys,
With
Sweet agony
In her eyes,

My mouth
I open wide,
To reclaim
What is rightfully
My prize.

Our hands
Clasped
&
Unified,

We give
Praise
Towards
The sky,

Once her
Convulsions
Turn
Petrified,

And I listen
To her bosoms
Beat
A Morris code
Lullaby,

My heart
Is
now on
High,

So this old soul
No longer needs to be
Spry,

For the flesh
Has had iT’s fill
And I now
Am ready to die…

there is a slow burn that
irritates from within

my only relief is drinking
from the living water
that quenches my thirst

my veins pump molasses

my dry heart belongs to the desert sands and i

cough

i cough up my childhood

memories scattering through the air like

d                   s

         u                      t

i have been parched since birth, since the beginning of this journey

that never ends

i measure my height in sunspots and in the time it takes to forget where i'm from

beached without an ocean

dry and cracking like the desert soil, no hope of rain and no sign

of life

empty and hot and alone

my dry heart hides behind my bleached desert bones and i

drown

in the sand

I taste
the summer's end
with a rainstorm - in time
grace embraces these dampened fields
as dew