A Poem by Adam Lambdin
Musing, I wondered why so many seem to coast
While for my part, both king and ghost, I fight.
Now absent, these snubs for thumbs no longer host
Any weapon that I would clasp.
Both maimed and rebel, the epoc is shifted,
No longer pagan, but the guarantor of new things.
In Him alone is confident trust though
I encapsulate all that is lost.
Satan also taunts my condition,
Claiming the easiest choices long forgotten,
So, realized again too late, I see that it is past volition.
As in a mirror, my dreams lock my ocular vision.
And every square inch of the King’s highway,
Though borrowed, it is mine by right,
If I can only exchange impudence for prudence,
And fight with kindness instead of woundedness.
Coming to grips with daily insufficiencies,
Each moment I redeem as intended
To recover not all that’s realized now as gone,
But to find meaning in selflessness and positive surrender.
God, I look to your Son so I can rejoice
In His service, though wounded here, with care.
I find in His service only, the template for each situation,
As I follow Him, being wounded here with too many cares.
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