Chest Knot

Force yourself to sit.
Force yourself to wait.
Force yourself to trust.
Force yourself to forgive.
Force yourself to laugh.
Force yourself to write.
You can’t help that you fuss yourself—
So force yourself to leave the shelf
and let your path praise the Lord.

Bring me home, bring me home, Lord.
I’m looking for a different satisfaction.
Norm told us to steal and keep eating,
The team disbanded to hunt for new stories,
And the show goes on; the sun circuits still.
I need to practice letting God choose—
For present comfort is no guarantee.

Bring me home, bring me home, Lord.
Footsteps prince me a path through the din.
Hands that held my back now applaud my stumbling—
Speaking of my stumbling:
I was sipping last ones, hoping that the first won.
And the show goes on; the trump is still blown.
All my medals rust before the changing times,
for You, Lord, were my only true possession.

Bring me home, bring me home, Lord.
These scars will follow me into victory.
Rooftop farming—aura wasn’t the only fruit.
I have witnessed enough to shrug from a cloud.
Lord, please take the pen again; write me back to right.
Outside Your Word, there was treachery that paralyzed.
For You alone are truth,
and Yours walk beneath a different sky…

…beneath a different why.

Bring me home, bring me home, Lord—
everywhere I am.

Godzniel
©2025

Keep moving

It’s deadly, It’s dangerous,
Was purely invented to endanger us,
It may not seem so now, but don’t forget,
It’s real,
And like a diabetic sore it doesn’t always heal,
A scary arrow we should beware of,
It’s a tranquilizer that takes years to wear off,
It keeps you there,
Trapped in illusions of self satisfaction,
Smeared with delusions so you shelf you actions,
It leaves you bare,
And freed from the hustle we all tread,

Your life becomes a repetition of hard lies,
You raised the stakes, laze, pride, your new allies,
Quick to gloat,
Mr Ambassador for past glory, enemy of growth,
You continue everyday in this same place,
“I’ll do it later” is your super phrase,
But you are in the race,
Moving on and nowhere with zero pace,

To Grace, you become yesterday’s testament,
Of shame, you adorn today’s garment,
Of Hope, you are tomorrow’s predicament,
Oh fool! when will ye be wise? Proverbs asks,
Baba doesn’t need a curriculum vitae to endorse us,
If not our sins would make a pretty bad CV,
So don’t hold back,

Take a step forward from where you are,
Take a swing upwards to raise the axe,
The laborers are few,
And that includes you,
Because the sharpest if abandoned becomes blunt,
And if you are useless another He’ll appoint,
Remember, It’s a race,
And you are not running if you remain at a point.

Erudite
© 2018