there was once a time when time moved forward,
events passed one another like falling dominoes--
the numbers matched up or they didn't,
91 tiles meant endless possibilities.
it was all a game with only so much strategy.
are we playing hide and go seek or is it sardines?
are all of us hiding or are we looking for the same thing?
wandering down the dark hallway all alone,
it doesn't seem to matter either way.
hands grope for what will not be grasped.
hide from me you fools.
for you don't really want to be found,
not in place of it.
what dwells in the shadows is not ours,
but now only mine to reach for.
hands lifted open in the air--
though wrists are cuffed.
seeking a touch of any sort of warmth--
though they are nailed down.
what's the use of a conciliatory last meal?
as a beggar receives bread
so my soul goes hungry.
as a widow finds embrace
so my heart is distant.
and i am weary of losing this game.
wouldn't you quit playing?
or at least stop giving lessons?
the challenge is part of the fun,
but only if you're up for it.
so many seem to die in the trenches.
the Lord upholds them with his hand,
though they stumble they will not fall.
will i fall further than my knees?
will i continue to reach out for some stabilizer?
the temporary crutch against crossbeam.
or will he finally extend a hand--
though the chasm goes deeper and deeper?