Birthday Boy

pokemon wallpaper

My son – who’s growing up so awfully fast
Into young manhood. What can your dad say?
The world is changed from what I knew times past.
Today is definitely another day.
Some things are better. Others are much worse.
But God remains unchanging. He’s the same
Whether the people us do bless or curse.
God is our tower of strength. He’s not to blame
When Life afflicts us during our few years.
He’s promised to walk through it by our side.
To feel our griefs, our sorrows, and our tears,
Our pleasures and our joys. May you decide
To set your hope on heaven’s joys hereafter
Where there’s no sorrow: only songs and laughter.

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Birthday Girl

Happy 18 Birthday

My little girl! Not little anymore.
But an adult, whose turning of eighteen
Occurs today! Congratulations for
Surviving in this crazy world of spleen
And moral outrage, where one’s every view
Is weighed to see if “politically correct”.
But stand against the flow: for what is True
This World will never know, cannot detect.
Christ lived, and died. His suffering ignites
Our love for Him and God. His love also
Empowers us to persist through the fights
With Satan’s minions on the earth below.
So – happy birthday! Today you’re eighteen
And many blessings have already seen
And many blessings yet from God will pour
Out on you. He loves you, we may be sure.

Rubáiyát – Foreshadowings Trio

Rubiayat

If Fate has written my Life in its Book
My liberty and freedom she has took.
And no vain pleadings, tears, nor lengthy prayers
Will change her mind. My Free Will I’ve forsook.

Yet full freedom: chaotic and most strange –
Its unpredictability can change
The future. And all prophecies prove false –
For from chaos, who can patterns arrange?

O foolish man! Traduce the Infinite?
And seek to fetter the Creator quite?
The One Being of all who’s truly Free
Who shapes the purposes of things aright!

Will Not Die

Life Zipper

One day we’ll meet our end – but will not die.
From death we step to life renewed. But why?

How can it be that when I see my old
And failing body laid inside the cold
Damp earth that that is not the final end?
Why not? Some power greater will contend
To draw my soul from sleep to give rebirth!
Some power greater than which drives the earth
Around the sun: and greater than us all.
God’s power resurrects us then withal
To stand – or fall into a dismal gloom
Without Him worse by far than the mere tomb.

Here’s cause for hope – and fear! Closely attend:
Of this be sure mere death is not the end.

Harold’s Dream

King Harold dead

When the king awoke in darkness, in a night with Autumn’s chill
Passing straight from sleep into waking – with his dreams foreboding ill.
For his dreaming merged with waking – for him where did the dreaming end?
It would seem that his dreams were fated so, therefore: what did they comprehend?

From across the sea came roaring – then onto the Sussex’ plain
Leapt a lion strong with extended claws who had crossed the watery main.
Like a king of beasts advanced he – he was like to an army strong
And a hymn rang out – without any words – sounding more like a battle-song.

Before this lion could advance on – comes a second to the plain
And the lions both swelled in size and strength – and they fought with might and main.
You could hardly tell between them – though one seemed to wear a crown
And the claws gouged blood as they raged and fought, when one threw the other down.

Then a battle surged around them, while sharp arrows fell like hail
And the lions submerged in the battle-strife – where they fought till life should fail.
As those armies clashed together, all the rivers ran blood-red
Only one side won. Which it was, was hid. But he knew one lion was dead.

So he mused as he dressed in armour, seized his battle-axe of steel
To march grimly forth to the battle-plain where he’d fight for the English weal.
In his mind still the lions’ roaring ‘tokened strains of victory
Would the Normans win? Or his English thegns? By the day’s end all would see.

Then Aurora rose with morning, and her colours touched the sky
As the sere tree leaves rustled about in the breeze – ’twas a wonderful day to die.
Harold King joined the forming shield-wall as the Normans tramped the plain
While his fading dream sang its sweet swan-song to the king – who’d not dream again.

Brainwork

Brain content

I once thought IQ all a man could need
For Life’s success. For then I did not know
Intelligence equals not Wisdom’s rede
And many smart men find their overthrow
By others far more cunning in the world,
Unscrupulous selecting any means
To undermine or see all others hurled
From out their way. Pretending when it seems
Best to them a pretense will get their way:
A counterfeit that’s fair to look upon
Like a new tomb, filled inside by decay
Maggots and decomposing skeleton.
High IQ by itself won’t gain success:
Lest matched with other traits that Life expects.

Rubáiyát – Foreshadowings Duo

Rubiayat

Some think their lives proscribed by iron Fate
Their every act and thought Fate’s rules dictate:
Enslaved freely to passions, earthly lusts.
The Truth some few do learn: mostly too late.

Yet it is true, let our wisdom take heed
Creation on the first day wrote her screed
Upon the skies and mountains, valleys, seas,
Which on the Final Day we all shall read.

So: am I Fate-bound? Or am truly free?
Does some divine will stronger compass me?
Or, like some ant – antennae in the dust –
Do I see almost naught of what shall be?