salt
Palate
"So fleeting,
the feelings that need to be written,
so we try,
lest we forget,
because we can end the story
right here.
But the writer didn't quit,
there's more than just words
to be conveyed,
painted.
So coast,
let the feelings become a little older,
bolder, embolden the taste
and let your mind
slip into space
where much will be needed,
actual space,
for too much had happened today,
looking for a place to be.
Matter of fact,
every little thing
had it's own story,
poetry to be painted for,
but the encompassing tone
is the gratuity of it all,
the gravity of thanks,
given time and again,
and how that can make
heartfelt words
turn empty.
A day
full of so many happenings
can dilute
the flavor of each herb;
the finite details
of a singular moment
crowded by
too many spices.
The palate becomes overwhelmed,
tastes come all sides,
pungent,
assaulted with bitter flavors,
or salty experiences.
Even the savory, slow
succumbing to sweet memories
can lead to sour smiles.
Too strong a concentration
on the subject of flavor,
and you lose the whole picture,
the entire day.
Exertion,
parading down the street,
or a humble pawn in the presence
of greatness,
balance is best
to appreciate the meal, if you will.
To appreciate every moment,
and the entire day they build."
This I Ask
Make me a torch
Set me aflame
Like you did to those before me
A burning fire,
Bright and hot
That cannot be ignored
Use me as a light
To shine on the dark
Use me as salt
To attract those who are hungry
Make me a preserver
To uphold the human soul
Use me as Your mouth-piece
The still, small voice
That draws them to You
Those unforgettable words
That shakes the soul
Use me as Your hands
To heal the broken,
To comfort those who mourn
To give them beauty for their ashes
And joy instead of sorrow
To rebuild the ruin, the devastations,
And destructions of the past
Use me as Your feet
I’ll go where you send me
For “I am here; send me!”
Lord, use me as a servant
To teach through what I do
Not just from what I say
To “Harvest, for the time is ripe”
To serve others, and not myself
Father, show me to be Your son
Your blood washes over me
Show this to them
That they can see
That they can hear
That they can shout
What You have done for me
That they can know
That they can understand
That they can be loved too
And that is only from You