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I Saw the Evening Star Tonight

I saw the Evening Star tonight.
This wouldn’t have meant much to me in years past.
But I have learned more about the vast
Night sky and its lights, and in turn have opened my eyes.

I marveled for a moment
That I had never really noticed her before,
Venus of myth and folklore,
Moving through the heavens, posing as she went.

I thought the thoughts of old –
Of celestial deities and love and mystery.
Of her dance at the wedding of Psyche
As Pan took his horn to blow.

Ah, but now she is just a planet
A ball of rock and gas and ice and mist.
And indeed that is of what she consists
But it is far from what she is.

For though I had not noticed her before in the sky,
The thoughts behind her have been with me
Each night for years as I have blessed the three
Souls God has placed in my life – my children and my wife.

And what’s more, this Star of the morning,
Who is the greater and true God of love,
Has dawned in my heart below from above
And shown me that Venus is but a sign.

And so I look, and so she shines.

Only a Seed

A cemetery flower, a real cemetery flower, not man-made,
Looked on as the mourners gathered around a grave.
He was a young flower, perhaps a bit naive and green,
But he could not understand the sight he had just seen.

As the men and women placed the casket in the ground,
Many were sobbing, weeping, and all were wearing frowns.
The flower wished that he could find a way to communicate
His own reasonings about what was taking place.

He thought to himself, ‘If I could only tell them about me,
That a short time ago I too was only a seed.’

Seek Ye First

I woke up this morning,
My throat is dry.
What shall I drink?

I woke up this morning,
My stomach is empty.
What shall I eat?

I woke up this morning,
I need to get dressed.
What shall I wear?

I woke up this morning,
And all this reminded me
That I must seek first the Kingdom.

Waking, I drink of His blood,
And eat of His flesh, which is the life of the world,
And put on his righteousness.

Waking, I am reminded,
Empty and naked,
Of my need for communion with Christ.

I walk out the door to start the day.
I see the birds, the lilies, the grass.
They are nested, nourished, and clothed.

And now so am I.

That’s For Me

Not the one who walks an aisle
Not the one who says a prayer
Not the one who always smiles
Not the one with no despair

But the one who looks at Christ
And says, ‘that’s for me.’
‘I would pay any price,
‘But thank God it is free.’

He has seen the world’s commercials
And once he cared for its offer.
But now there has been a reversal
And Christ has become his only coffer.

The New Old Rag

An old piece of cloth that had become quite frayed
For years in the dark of a closet had laid.
It served no good purpose, but only collected grime and dust,
As it laid and decayed in the dankness and must.

But then one day amidst its blight it saw an unfamiliar sight,
‘I do believe’ it said with fright, ‘this must be the thing called light.’
Someone indeed had opened the door
And removed the rag from its familiar store.

‘This rag is old and dingy and torn’ said the one who had removed it,
‘I do not think I can clean it up, but perhaps I can renew it.’
The remover had quite a skill for making old things new,
And the old rag had been quite changed by the time that he was through.

The new old rag now hung on the wall in the light as decoration.
But he could not believe a rag like him could experience such transformation.
And sure enough, as he had feared, the darkness came once more.
The dream was over, back to the lightless closet, as it had been before.

But the sun rose next day and he found he was not in the closet at all.
He was still a new rag who lived in the light and hung upon the wall.
‘And can it be’ he said with joy, ‘that the dream is not a dream?
For this great thing called morning comes each day and I am still the new me.’