Epitaph

I am dead.

No glimmer of hope

to lighten this grayness.

No fires of feeling

to warm this stone.

No joy, no despair.

No pleasure, no pain.

Nothing.

Repentance is meaningless;

I feel no contrition, no guilt.

I have no plow for this fallow ground,

No chisel for this granite heart.

Impotent against stillness of spirit,

A corpse with a pulse.

Lord of Lazarus,

Clearer of crypts,

Call my heart forth,

still tangled in the wrappings of corruption.

Morningstar,

You, Who sent tongues of fire--

Breathe on dead coals and ashes,

Restore tears and tempest,

Laughter and loathing,

Passion and pain.

Put this tepid water on to boil

Until I sing.

Spirit of the Living God, fall fresh on me.

Surrender

Since I am caught in the generation between adolescence and AARP, I decided to lean toward the former and start a blog. I cannot vouch for how often this will be updated, but this seems to be how we stay in touch these days.

I intend to post random thoughts, observations, poetry and whatever else comes to mind. I don't intend to post pictures of myself, the momentous events of my daily life, nor my standings in the current Gallup poll. Pictures of my pets will probably find their way here, but if you know me that will be no surprise.

So welcome to my blog. That is such an ugly word for something that is supposed to help us share with one another. So if you can think of another word, I would love to hear it. Perhaps we can start a trend! That would be cadillac!