Church, Parable of the Talent, and on faith (Poem)

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Sometimes this life is 

cracked and broken

battered on the sharp 

rocks of bitter tides. 

When feebled burdens

shatter beneath 

malnourished bones of faith

We will find our ways again. 

One day, the dying soul

fighting for breath 

pain riddled

rattled like a doll

from bygone days

shaken, torn and tattered

waged, we this ignorant

war within ourselves.

And now on death beds of

brick and mortar

we wonder why

they do not come,

when etched deep

beneath our fingernails

the splintered boards

of risk and faith, 

the only evidence of 

this remains. 

And here, the series

of the ‘If only’s’ 

occurs.

Regrets tied to

our poor choices

anchored beneath the ice

of human tradition’s grave…

if only we had allowed 

His Spirit, 

we gasp with whispered 

breath, 

but doubt crept in 

and stole our stilted courage

and so we hid our talents deep

when invested we should have done. 

So we exchanged our fortunes

for this solitary one.  

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