The Liar - a Wayfarers Ode

I know that my faith is the substance of things hoped for; The evidence of things unseen...


Heavy, oh so heavy Lord,
Is this burden that I carry
It seems that at times I have been lost and alone
Driven by the unseen as a vagabond far from home

There is a tormentor seemingly everywhere
He is a tempter and a destroyer
You Lord, have called me out to something
And yet the tormentor is dismantling everything I know

I pace off the miles, cold and hungry
My soul cries for food and restoration
I am patient
I know that my faith is the substance of things hoped for
The evidence of things unseen; and yet my faith has seen testing

The evil thing paces and pants in the shadows
Bushes and briers snapping under his feet; he too is patient
As this wayfarer walks the path the evil thing who keeps pace in the brambles
Whispers lies to my cold ears as he tramples the former vastness of my earthly life
Yes, oh Lord, he destroys - as he tells me that you desire for me only failure and suffering
He tells me that it is you who is my tormentor and not him
He tells me that I will arrive at my destination damaged; as a cripple and an insane fool
He tells me that all that I do is wrong

Yes, oh Lord, the burden weighs heavy as I move forward into the unseen
I do not look now at what has been broken but instead on what is ahead;
It is night and I cannot see far; but I trust you
I see a light that most cannot see and I follow it
I follow it despite the murmurings of lying, filthy spirits upon my ears
I follow it into the frigid night because Lord, my God, it is your light!
It is a long road home fraught with peril and evil
But I see Your light, yes! Yes!
You are my light and my salvation oh Lord,
You are the truth and the light that leads me home
You, only You, will get me home
Only You will save me from the Liar




Read The Wayfarers in Kindle or paperback.

Popular posts from this blog

Sarah and the Crap Hole of a World

Image
She was affronted and a nerve was struck. The tuning fork of her anger hummed as she snapped a drag, inhaled deeply, and then argued “he wanted nothing to do with me until I got a letter from him just after he died! I wanted to be close to him, but he was always busy with False Walrus. He was a great dad when I was little, but once the band became his living his bass guitar was more important than me and mom, and that’s why she divorced him, you know?” Her eyes were narrowed as she took another drag, and her inhale was like a wet pan being set on a hot stove burner. “He abandoned us” she fumed before her quick, forceful exhale sounded as though she was blowing out a match. While a cloud of smoke hovered between them, she continued with “but I loved him and now I know that he loved me too and it’s too late! He’s home now and I’m stuck in this crap hole of a world trying to survive without him or mom while some evil nutjob who works for ALL is stalking me and blew my house up because he
Read more

Stille Nacht and Little Drummer Boy

Image
  We join Sarah as she makes her way through Fayetteville, New York: Modest ranch houses lined North Burdick Street across from the shopping center. Several of them stood in defiance of Reconstruction Solstice and were splendidly decorated with Christmas lights. The postage stamp front yards of the homes featured nativity scenes and Santa in a sleigh pulled by eight reindeer. A fifteen-foot-tall pine tree in one yard was strung with red and green lights and featured a lighted silver and gold star at the top that managed to stay attached during the gusts of wind. The owner of another house had been the sound tech for False Walrus on their final tour. On a flatbed trailer with a plywood backing and roof he had set up a sound system with two speaker columns, each comprised of a 15” woofer, a 12” mid-range, and a horn for high-end. From an amplifier and mixing console in the living room he pushed music out at 1,600 watts while the lights arrayed around the outside of the home blinked in sy
Read more

Quick-Tempered, Moody, and Taste Like an Ashtray

Image
  To assure herself of her desirability outside of the superlatives of one man’s description, she uttered “I’m blond-haired, blue-eyed, and small-boned. I’m pretty, and I’m physically fit from being a runner. I’m smart and witty, and I’m very loving. I’ve been told that I’m sexy. I’m a good singer, too!” After snapping another drag, she continued her self-interview with “why can’t I find a good guy to love me? Well, I know of one and I’ve been dreaming about him for years, but I guess it’s too late now, being the End Times and all.” “It’s not the End Times, it’s the Reconstruction” came the answer through the speaker in a quad-copter drone that lowered to a spot five feet in front of her, causing her to stop on a dime in sudden, shocked surprise. Its digitized androgynous voice wasn’t finished, and critiqued “you can’t find a partner because you’re quick-tempered, moody, and taste like an ashtray. And you act like you’re menstrual every day of the month.” “Lord Jesus, please help me” S
Read more