A Feeble Attempt at Poetry - "How Strange"

I should likely just call this "reflections" to avoid the high expectations often associated with poetry.

How Strange it is that whatever my gaze falls upon becomes the entire world.

My view is so often encased in four walls,
that when standing on a hilltop I catch a glimpse of natures wonders and,
I . . can . . . not . . process.

The longer I stare, the less static things become, but somehow
displaying more stability then I can humanly grasp.

Two shadowy mountains stand bold in the darkness, but only because the light is
. . . faint.
With no light at all the mountains would not exist in my sight.
They stand majestic over the glass water, that only hours ago lurched with anger.
How strange it is that the powerful ferry slides like a crown across the water now,
yet was rendered useless against a mere breathe of air!

Lights sprinkle the lower mountain, all with seemingly no purpose at all.
I assume that if I could see closer they are mostly of importance to somebody.
These lights fade at such a short distance, the same way my flashlight dissipates on a tree . . .

a mere stones throw away.

But despite light cloud cover, a few hundred stars shine without flickering,

and if JustThisHillIStandOn, and theTwoMountainsISee, and the CrevasseOfWaterInFrontOf me, and the PatchOfStarsAbove me, were the entire earth. . .

I

would

feel

small.

I imagine what it might be like to see the entire earth in all its'

glorious-detail-simultaneously,

I am no more.

We can be free from legalism and license, so truly free!

How strange it is to think that I have spent so much time worrying about

Repeat

I have known about this poem for sometime, but it wasn't until recently that it has meant so much to me. In the world we live in it is a constant struggle for me to place my trust anywhere. Time and time again I need to remind myself that we are part of a bigger story, that there is purpose in life, and that there is hope. Not just a hope for tomorrow, but a hope for today.

Fatigue

My God is only as big as I let him be and

I am not gonna limit my God with my disbelief

My God has always, always been there for me

and I am not gonna limit my God with uncertainty

I DON'T HAVE MUCH! (but it might amount to a mustard seed)

I beg for miracles and then I breathe

I scream for signs and wonders and then my heart keeps its beat

But you've got to go through the fire to be refined - yeah!

There's a huge sense of helplessness in a hopeless time...

Well, I am yours and you are mine, and we are one in a kind.

So sang the birds and the bees

when I was not strong enough to sing anything;

if you care and provide for the least of these,

then how much more will you look over me?

I don't have much, but it might amount to a mustard seed,

and I've seen you move mountains and

command the winds and waves of the seas

on a whim so much smaller than me, singing:

God is bigger than the air I breathe; the world will leave.

And God will save the day, and all with sing

my glorious.

-Levi the Poet