The Web 3-16-09

It looked so fragile - I laughed.
Thin strands I could hardly see.
I figured it was harmless
and knew it couldn't hold me.

I tested it, toyed with it, and knew
I was much stronger than it.
So I played for little while
and formed a harmless habit.

There in comfort, I wrapped myself.
I failed to hear the alarm.
It enveloped - and fragile it was,
I knew it could do no harm.

At times I tried to free myself,
my soul was awful scarred.
I'd soon give up each time I tried -
My heart becoming hard.

A great deceptive spider came
and bound me up so tight,
devoured me in laughter
and I had lost the fight.

Learn from this fatal lesson,
and don't play games with sin.
We cannot do it on our own -
for Christ must live within.

©2009 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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The Perfect Man 2-16-06

Joe is perfect. He wakes up just before the alarm goes off. He shaves with the perfect razor, brushes his teeth with the perfect toothpaste, flosses, takes a shower, combs his hair and holds it with perfect hair spray. He puts on his perfect suit, his perfect tie, and his perfect shoes. After his perfect breakfast, he pats his perfect kids on their heads and kisses his perfect wife goodbye. He gets in his perfect car and backs out his perfect driveway past his perfectly groomed lawn. He gets to his perfect job and performs his work perfectly.

No. Did you really believe that? Nothing is perfect - despite the appearance. If you really knew Joe, you'd find many imperfect circumstances in his life. And, you'd observe that he isn't perfect either. Not in the least - especially on the inside.

And just like Joe, another man woke up - but with confused friends. He didn't use perfect toothpaste or perfect hair spray. He had no suit - much less a perfect one. He had no perfect wife or kids. He had no perfect vehicle. He had no perfect home. His work didn't pay much. He didn't have perfect friends. He did have some perfect enemies, though. In fact, one day, He was beaten with a whip. Later that day He died. He was hung from an imperfect tree with imperfect nails and an imperfect crown - not at all fitting for a perfect Man. Why?

©2006 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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