From Where I Sit 8-3-12

Up on the high majestic hill,

stands one great mighty oak,

that seems to mimic something else -

a world of prideful folk.

Some think that sin is not so bad,

they think it's overblown -

but I can feel that screaming wind

from Satan's megaphone.

Oh, we all know man's clanging wars -

his taxed and tortured slaves -

his used, abused or beaten spouse -

the sinful life he paves -

that plows up God's great symphony

with Adam's clumsy ox -

and pummels us with angry words

or painful, sinful rocks.

But God's created orchestra -

all people, black and white -

all babies born (or soon to be)

and elders have a right -

a right to live on God's great earth

in peace and harmony.

But pride seeks greater powers and

rejects humility.

From where I sit, I always see

His beauty deep within,

His loving, graceful handiwork -

though plundered so, with sin.

God's handiwork from birds to fish

and mammals great and small -

still bless me with their beauty here.

I see His work in all.

And when I think my Loving God,

has nothing more to give -

He pours out love in greater grace,

so ready to forgive -

where even I, through heavy heart,

so tearfully repent -

and seek that perfect sacrifice,

who God already sent.

A rhythm rolls with springtime breeze

across this valley pass -

right over meadow here below

and through His humble grass.

In unison, harmonic notes

from orchestra below -

still wave to those on mighty hill,

to folks who need to know...

©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Lonely Acorn 9-10-10

Lonely is the acorn
from way atop the oak -
tumbling fast through branches,
down past all other folk.

Lonely, not the squirrel
emerging from its hut -
and storing safe for winter,
that lowly, little nut.

Lonely is the acorn,
buried in the ground -
who once survived in sadness,
where truth was seldom found.

Lonely, not the the hunter
who stands behind his gun,
who aims at his next target,
who shoots it on the run.

Lonely is the tap root
that grows down in so deep,
drawing up the moisture,
so life itself, can keep.

The hunters haunt the hunted
with minds so twisted, twirled -
and satisfied will never be,
in this defining world.

Not useful as a mortal nut,
no longer living free -
so bury it, if that's the wish,
but some day it will be...

...a mighty tree in stature,
where truth still grows it more,
and though it very lonely,
has acorns by the score.

A tree that feeds the hunted
and hunters faithfully -
but tree still very lonely,
if that's how life must be.

Lonely are the fragile,
and lonely are the weak -
so lonely are the trampled,
and lonely too, the meek.

Popular the answers taste,
for queries others feed -
and hunger pangs will linger on,
until all truth is freed.

But springs of living water,
is where God's truth is found -
so count it as a blessing,
when buried in the ground.

Numerous and popular
are lies that pass the tooth -
but lonely still, the acorn,
and lonely too, the truth.

©2010 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Deuteronomy 6:14 (NASB)
"You shall not follow other gods,

any of the gods of the peoples who surround you..."

John 4:10 (KJV)
Jesus answered and said unto her,

If thou knewest the gift of God,

and who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink;

thou wouldest have asked of him,

and he would have given thee living water.