Poetry

        January, Two-Thousand Twelve

  In the chasm a fire was ignited.

The herald spoke, the infant flame matured;

The ethereal flame order imposed.

  In the abysmal recess of my heart,

Ten years ago, love for Jesus was born;

  But freezing winds of time their magic wrought,

The fire dimmed, I lost sight of God’s Son.

  Faithful heralds increased the feeble fire,

Pouring fragrant oil from God’s own hand;

  The spark, still young, promised to grow stronger,

But begged oil to fight the icy wind.

  O Lord! I’m twenty-eight in three more days,

  For my remaining years, teach me Thy ways.