With multiple cough drops, much tea, and general coaxing, I was actually able to find my voice and stop hacking up a lung long enough to do my vlog tonight. It’s a miracle! I hope I’m doing better by tomorrow. But I was much worse today, an it’s looking like I’m getting sick. But hey, better now than earlier in the month!
Now, rather than posting an excerpt from my novel tonight, I though it appropriate to share the poem I performed today. The first one, that is. The second one is on my poems page, titled Feel the Thunder.
The world was dark and there was nothing,
Not a whisper, not a sound.
Space was vast, and null, and void,
Not light, nor dark, was seen.
There were no eyes to survey the land,
Nor a dimension in which to lay,
There was no time to waste away,
None of our known constraints.
There was nothing.
Nothing, a concept difficult for man to understand.
Because since the beginning of time,
And from the moment of our body’s birth,
There has always been something.
But the very definition of nothing
Is the complete absence of something.
So what, then, is something?
Something is anything confined by space and time,
Bound by those mortal shackles we have all felt
Wearing down on us before.
Scientists call this wearing down of our skins
The property of entropy.
Everything that is something is always
Losing its organization, from the molecular structure out.
For this reason we will all return to dust,
Become the dust from whence we came.
But this is not some line from a musty old book,
This is the truth.
For we were nothing, and there was nothing,
Until that first breath was heard upon the earth.
It was the breath that created time and space,
That formed a dimension and filled it with life.
It was the breath that put the stars in the heavens,
And that brought the world to be.
It put us all in motion, gave us immortality.
We were the culmination, the crowning glory of this earth,
But in grace and love He granted us free will.
This gift was given to further glorify Him,
By allowing us to create, to build,
To shine His character in our own unique ways.
We were not made as puppets, dangling from strings.
But in our foolish quest for power we haphazardly cut them anyway,
Not realizing that they were not controlling us.
These strings were not merely strings but lifelines,
Our lifelines to eternity.
When we had finally shaken ourselves free of these strings,
We became brittle, coarse, and weak,
And finally realized that we are not able to sustain ourselves.
Forever became a memory from the past,
A word we say with strong emotions,
But can no longer fully understand.
And yet a part of us still longs for our eternity,
Our souls ache for the perfection we know we once owned.
In our longing for freedom, we sold ourselves to the harshest of masters.
We severed ourselves from the tree of life,
Embracing the tantalizing winds of change and hoping to find a better place.
But its tendrils did not grasp us and we tumbled to the ground,
Our faces in the dirt and muck.
The boots of the gardener would step around us,
The pouring rains trample us down.
We had no ability to pick ourselves up,
No power to return to the tree,
To the safety and stability that we discovered we truly wanted.
Change was not all it was cracked up to be.
The promise of a new and shining tomorrow had washed away,
And left us there to rot.
But not all hope was lost.
For even through the sun’s harsh rays,
The wind’s howling, ripping currents,
The rain’s relentless force,
The gardener was watching.
When at last we’d given in,
Realized we were nothing,
Born from nothing,
Raised from nothing,
Fallen to nothing,
And returning to nothing,
He came again.
Not with fire to burn the imperfections away,
But in love, to save us from our foolish decision.
Hope was not in the wind,
It was in the place we’d fought so hard to leave.
From hope we left,
To hope we could now return.
He graphed us back into our tree of eternity,
He placed the key within our shackle’s lock…
All we have to do is accept it, and turn the key.