Kindling for the Poetic

“For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Eternal, “plans for peace, not evil, to give you a future and hope—never forget that.”

Does fickle shuffle cards or deal it in the works
Daddy’s little character flaw or progeny of cellular quirks

A chance we choose on the off-chance we’re the unmitigated sin
A fool’s game, a shot in the dark or quantifiable win

Are we human fabrication or resolute textures of time
Woven patterned lives lived on the turn of a capricious dime

Are we, our lives the driving force or marionettes of undertow currents
Predetermined destinations or flotsam on chanced occurrence

Sweet Jesus, Mary & Joseph is there a Frosty’s chance in hell
Of righting wayward direction at the point of an Ancient Knell

If we’re shrouded in confusion and locked inside a law
Blinded by the mystery, can we ever see He saw

Was it a gift or a travesty or is it merely bitter gall
Are we humbled or enraged, forced to walk another’s fall

A tincture, a transfusion or grand absolution
Is it truth they dared to share or the snake oil of a Confucian

A King and His Queen, a Knight or a swindler Rook
Cosmic game of Chess boarded on a Reigning Sovereign’s Book

Were we lost, misbegotten, or pawned on the Master’s whim
Was it ever Him and us or eternally Thee and Them

Will fleeing feet find footing at the beat of a ruminate
Or demons cackle the shackle to the prose of a procrastinate

Will pellucidity wash red with the simplicity of a confession
Is it a daring leap, a step of faith or a do-si-do progression

And when it’s seen in the ink pot and tested on the page
Is it kindling for the poetic or stoking an inner rage



“It’s Alright, Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)”