"My Song"

[spiritusvult]

I'm not exactly sure what this means, well, maybe it's the song of the downtrodden.



Father, this is my tune
sung with my fingers
and my heart

For it to be otherwise
would be too heavy
or is it light

Like the light that comes
from You to Yours
and that thing I feel in me

That conflagration
that passion that burns
without consuming

It once burned bright
and I marveled at its heat
and bask in the glory
I believed to be You

And things have come
and shown me the gray
and now I know

And that blaze
it has become an ember
but soft amber
in the chill of the night
is beautiful too

This is my song
this is the flow
of the core of me

Of who I am
of what I will become
and yet am now

Though I cannot see it
with these
inevitably unfocussed eyes

And maybe that’s it
why the fire dimmed

Like a foolish woodsman
I forgot to sharpen my axe
and now it takes twice the strength

Or, has it become so sharp
that it is no longer useful
for chopping, felling great trees

Sometimes I look at its edge
and I shave with it
and I think I really have something
and maybe I can give that thing
to others because
I imagine that’s what it’s for
anyway

But all it is
is a chunk of mental
at the end of a hunk of would

But for all it isn’t
and for all of what it could be
I give it to You

Though that memory of hotter times
still lingers deep within
I know still

That even the smoldering coals
they are still proof
of love and of life

[creed4]

It's good, keep it up

[Mithrandir]

Downtrodden? I detect more than a hint of acceptence. Or maybe it's resignation.

Maybe it's growth - but maybe it's a valley.

Or maybe I'll ask you about it tomorrow.

[Anna Mae]

Good. I like how you talk about the ax. I also particularly appreciated the first stanza.