If God had children
How many would there be?
Just a few—
Two or three?
Or after
The grandeur of His majesty
An infinitude
Like the sands of the sea?
If God had children
How would they be?
Brilliant and fair
With grace and creativity?
Bright and curious
Filled with mirth and delight
Fearless, determined
With all their little might
Some pensive, profound
Gallant or genteel
Others mild, benign
With great capacity to feel
Boundless joys
In love’s rich quay
Happiness to burst!
Or weeping Niobes
Each child
Possessing a seed,
A soul spark,
Of true magnanimity
Spawned from glory
Envisage the sight!
Children of One
Omniscient, Holy, and Light
If God had children
How would they learn?
How would He teach them
Show parental concern?
Lessons of courage,
Compassion, integrity
Sacrifice, strength…
Does such come free?
Would they know,
When they’re away,
Their Father rapt
In each protégé?
Ceaseless care,
Love amaranthine
Watching over
His precious kin
Would there be a moment,
Swift, as a breath,
A mortal life
Of testing, of death?
Far from a home
Hallowed and dear,
Chapters begin in a
Terrestrial sphere
A curtain of forgetting
Slumber, if you may,
Entering a world unknown
Stranger every day
Rudiments of wonder
Still apparent for eyes that see
Golden threads of spirit
Shimmering with possibility
Beauteous surroundings
The warmth of family
An endless dawn
This new journey can be!
…Amidst overwhelming chaos
That blankets society?
Disaster, noise!
How does one fit?
In this world of
Hearts disconsolate?
Racing, rushing!
Who to believe?
When days—years—
Feel dry and paltry
With the winds of life
Harsh and cruel
We, heirs of Divinity?
Notions of a fool!
So resplendent spirits
In shells uncouth
Demand “where is God?
Give me proof!”
Oh my friends…
If only I could
Help you remember
Help you feel,
By sharing my own experience,
His love so real:
The Peaceful One
Calming mind’s morass
Tempestuous waves
To seas of glass.
Potholes of sadness
Like acne on my heart
To wells of compassion
A merciful new start
Lingering memories,
Albeit, still exist
Reminding of His grace
While I waded through the mist
When I cursed the sun
For shining in its place
While I sunk, water rising,
Immured in a broken vase.
When my soul’s vast cathedral
Capacious, made of stone,
Was filled not with beauty,
Just me, all alone.
Memories of thoughts,
The constant despair
Baffle me, humble me,
That I was once there.
So when I speak
Of celestial design
A great, Eternal plan
A Savior to come
Atone for man
A Friend, a Healer,
The very Son of God,
Know it comes not from vain belief,
Naïveté, or fraud.
It’s because of my travels,
Though young in years,
Through tundra and temple—
Eternity’s mirrors—
That I say what I say
And do what I do
Thus I declare:
A Heavenly Heritage, destiny—
It’s true!
GOD DOES HAVE CHILDREN.
It’s me. It’s you!
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