
We race up mountains
sweating hard to get a high;
driving’s not for all.

We race up mountains
sweating hard to get a high;
driving’s not for all.
Went to a baptism today, and while I was scanning the verses of a hymn, a few words popped out at me. I came home and “found” this poem in the hymn titled And Can it Be by Charles Wesley.
I’m not pious, so I didn’t interpret the poem as such. To me, this poem is about a greedy human who thinks a bit too highly of their self. Any thoughts and feedback welcome.
I interest me to death, amazing me!
Immortal design, the sound of all minds.
His infinite love, for all me.
My spirit in a light, my heart rose.
Condemnation is mine! In righteousness, I approach the crown.
Full hymn on the left; found poem on the right. 👇

Thick suit of armour
oak bark wearing week-old moss
faces axe bearers
The director-playwright lay under the raised curtain, surveying it to make sure it wasn’t creased. The manager had done that the night before. And again in the morning. But it didn’t hurt to check again.
Actors rushed around, muttering dialogues, rehearsing, buckling belts, fixing wigs. His eyes crinkled as he smiled to himself, proud.
Suddenly, he froze. His eyes widened as the curtain rod came hurtling towards his head.
He could only stare.
An inch away, it stopped. “You should be more careful, you know” came an unfamiliar voice from backstage. The one who’d become his wife.
He let his breath out.
I wrote this little story in July 2014. I found it in my drafts while cleaning out my blog, and I figured it was worth a polish and publish.

I wake to a glow
alien pink filters in
my window at five