Long, hard, I spent a lifetime working.
I compiled many stories.
I wrote many odes.
I created many civilizations.
Like Leonardo Da Vinci I sketched the future.
These are my stories.
I need to eat from them.
Hosea 14 comes to mind.
“Take with you words, o Israel.”
I fell by my iniquity…
Backing into the basement
I tripped and fell
In my idleness.
I said to the LORD:
“Take away all iniquity,
“And receive me graciously
“That I may offer the calves of my lips.”
The calf is my stories
And I would hope the LORD
Would pluck my sin from me
And cast it into the sea.
Then I shall say this:
“Asshur Shall not save me,”
For though the prophet sing me a song
He cannot.
“I will not ride on horses.”
Though I feel the enemy closing in around me
I shall not flee upon them.
“I will not call the works of my hands
“My Gods…”
I know, without a doubt,
That these words, these writings,
They will not prosper me.
Only God can in the time that is appointed to me.
And I know that the fatherless find mercy in the LORD.
I will not fear my dad’s cancer
Because the LORD will keep me safe.
B. K. Neifert 