On the Holy Hill

His voice shakes the earth
But I’ve never heard it do that
His whisper shakes me to the core
It breaks the bones of my soul
It tears my heart in pieces
It floods me with terror
It gives me hope.
I imagine He sits on a hill somewhere
I have never seen where
I have never seen with my eyes
Yet I cannot help but believe
And it is not really something to control
Beliefs are not like light-switches.

I always look up
When I look for his face
Maybe that’s why I climb
My heart thinks that somewhere
Up on a hill
Is the master of all there is.

Less and less
I try for philosophical points
In every statement I make
As I once did
Yet still I look up every hill
Still I look up.

The years have not been kind to my heart
I have not been kind to my heart
Life has not been kind to my heart
But I look up at every hill
Maybe one day
One day when I am gone
The ones who come after
will reach that hill
And tell Him who sits on it
about me.

He who sits up high
Can raise even the dead
And all who long for Him
Know this.

They Tell Themselves the Ground Is Gone

They tell me that the truth has changed
And I’ve been left behind.
Of course that is absurd to say
There’s nothing of the kind.

They tell me that what matters most
Is what it means to you
Then all the world’s a pile of dung
And you are worthless too.

They tell me that the ground is not
A starting point to see
And that the stones that held the earth
Were never meant to be.

They tell me that the truth is not
A thing to touch and feel
I guess that changes everything
There’s nothing left to steal.

The Boat

The boat we sail is long and fast

And makes good time in great storms

And all life’s questions are here at last

But they tend to be about these forms.


And these forms, the trouble is,

They are of the boat,

And we are in the ocean sea

And have to keep afloat.


So how do we?  who want to know

Begin to map our quest?

When all the while we are at sea

Sailing to the west.


The things our hearts burn to know

Have this simple trouble here

They are the boat itself you see

And so you see we have this fear.


How can we, while afloat,

Make our queries count?

When we are out amidst the sea’s

Limitless fearful fount?