Time
A Poem Of Grit And Grace
“Saints Ambrose and Augustine” by Pedro Berruguete (1450–1504)
Time
Time is a gift or so they say.
The more I have, the more I waste.
O me of little faith—restless
heart resting less. Listless and less
becoming. Yet still I will praise
with fissured lips and hands to raise
a “Hallelujah!” scarcely felt,
a “Holy!” murmured from my hell.
Time is a gift or so they say.
The more I crave, the more my haste.
Yesterday I was Arius:
Denying Christ’s pre–eminence.
Today I am Augustine: Lost
until my heart finds rest in God.
Tomorrow I’ll be Origen:
Castrate myself; won’t sin again.
Time is a gift or so they say.
The more I slave, the more it fades.
But wonder’s thread does ever pull
and never leaves me less than full.
I could deny the light I’ve seen
but shadows live because light beams
and my shadows are sticky friends
who know that they have met their end.
Time is a gift or so they say.
The more he has, the more I pray.
Created to create, with mark
of maker seared upon my heart.
This maker who speaks life to things,
who uncorks bottled laughs to ring.
His word is life and health and peace.
My tongue is pen now poised to bleed.
Time is a gift or so they say.
The more he has, the more I play.
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This poem was generated by the author’s human mind with zero AI / LLM involvement.
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If you enjoyed reading this, you might also enjoy my recent poem, “Delight,” which was inspired by the riches of Psalm 37:
I love this poem. It's my dream to write something like this, simple, poignant relatable, deep. Keep going, all the best x
“My tongue is pen now poised to bleed” …
This potent piece leaves me longing for that One timeless essence that weaves all this - God.