Wednesday, December 3, 2014

A Poem

I had to compose a poem for my Late 18th Century Classics class about "the world and our place in it". This is what I wrote:

In contemplation of myself, and my place in this world
I turn inward, much as I disdain it, and search for the answer there
And though I know my heart is corrupt, it is made of flesh instead of stone
And so, I fold inward and show my heart bare

I have a yearning in my heart
To love and care for another
I know this strange feeling comes not from me
But is a gift from my adopted brother

I want children of my own
What a strange sounding phrase
Is this because I have loving parents?
Because I have loved their loving gaze?

Not wholly false, not wholly true
The answer runs deeper still
God loves me, and I am his child
His blood paid my infinite bill

I love, and want to love
Because he first loved me
I want to love my child
Because I am His child, and always will be

A babe is helpless, and cannot love me back
A child is sinful, and mine will hate me 
I will love him not because I will be loved in return
Other people despise children, because they cannot see

As my baby is helpless, so am I
As my children will hate me, so I do the same to my father repeatedly
I do not love in order to be loved
But I love in spite of the hate because my own father loves me unconditionally

So as I contemplate my place in the world
I think...I will be a father, and of wrongs not keep track
Not for earthly gain nor love given me
But in obedience and out of thankfulness
For a father who has given when he knew I could give nothing back

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