Bravery

Our tales recount the bravery
Of heroes long ago,
The ones who stood against an army
And conquered every foe—

Their boldness fills our heart with courage,
And we desire their wages:
To have our deeds recorded, too,
To fill immortal pages—

But bravery is counted not
By deeds that give us fame,
But by the choice to give our blood
That someone else may gain;

And braver than the bravest heroes
Is he who gives his life
Without the chance of winning praise
For his noble sacrifice.

Bowdlerize

Would you abridge the plan of God
To fit in your agenda?
Or whittle at the universe
Until you understand it?

We do not know the hidden blueprints
Describing how we blend,
But every piece must play its role
Within God’s perfect plan—

The souls that you’re condemning now
Will not be overlooked;
’Tis you who are the fool, as you
Try to rewrite the book.

Born Again

I feel the pressure
To leave my comfort zone,
And I’m terrified.

Terrified,
Because darkness is all I’ve known,
Because this cage is warm
And I don’t know what is out
In the world beyond my cell.

But the time has come
And the pressure mounts;
I am forced to leave my home,
And dare the world.

The terrifying journey
Becomes more terrifying,
As I’m squeezed
And shoved,
And pushed down,
Down,
Through the ring of fire.

Then, with one final push,
I am cast into a whole new world.

Light bathes my face,
And for the first time
I breathe fresh air.

I hear a voice I recognize,
And look up;
I see two eyes filled with love,
I feel two arms that keep me safe,
And here with Daddy
I know I’m home.

A House for a Snowflake

I knew someone who once
Built a home for a snowflake he loved;
He carefully modeled it to match his treasure,
Measuring every corner with precision,
And nailing every board by hand.

It was a perfect fit;
Every crystalline blossom flourished
And glistened with white beauty,
Like a bride with glowing cheeks,
With smiles radiating from her heart.

Satisfied with his results,
The builder had an idea.
He mass produced a blueprint
Of his perfect house,
Showing off his perfect snowflake,
And soon got rich.

But all of us who bought the blueprint,
Hoping for the guarantee that someday
Our snowflakes would glisten with the same beauty,
Found that shoving snowflakes
In a premade model
Breaks off the crystalline blossoms
Unique to each one.

Bookshelves

I file ideas in bookshelves,
Each one is in its place;
My mind is like a library,
All perfectly arranged—

It’s all compartmentalized;
I find the facts I need,
Then when I’m finished, I return
Whatever I have read—

It seems so convenient
To catalog my brain,
But all these bookshelves split my mind
And make me feel insane—

I do not want my life to consist
Of jumping box to box,
Where careful watch is kept
Ensuring they aren’t mixed—

I want my thoughts to be connected,
So I can be myself—
I’ll weld each book into my soul
And burn the shelves.

Boggled

We measure people by their skills
At having ducks aligned,
To have an answer well prepared
For any question designed;

We try to make a mold for God,
That he may be explained,
But sadly, he keeps bursting boxes
And will not play the game!

To follow all his different colors
Would be like counting stars;
We’re boggled by the multitude
And cannot reach the mark—

We cannot fit God in our rows,
And fail to read his mind,
But thankfully, ’tis he who’s God—
He has it all aligned!