Poetry

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Is there any way of sorting out
What sounds like verbal paradox?
Should I turn a deaf ear, refuse to hear,
All the blurry words spoken down here?
I’m at wit’s end, yet still can’t help but listen,
To these messages that are all so very different.
How will I ever survive this heart of mine’s
searching?

A scientist explains that it is a star,
While a babe may say; it’s bright and far.
Both are describing to me the sun,
That gives out light and keeps us all warm.
It may be pure, or impure, an elderly or baby’s voice.
I must bear these things in mind, and consider the source.
And never give up on this heart of mine’s
searching.

If on the subject of the sun, I had no clue
Would I be deceived about what it could not or could do?
For once it was deemed god, by men long ago.
No doubt, sincere, but they simply did not know.
And so to them, the sun was something it was not.
These are just some of the things I must think about.
As I find my way; in this heart of mine’s
searching.

It’s as if my mind is being blocked
By some sort of smoke screen; a miasmic fog.
There must be a way to raise this sinister shade
That’s hanging out there to keep from me, heaven’s way.
And how can I hold on to my sanity
As I seek answers to all these hidden mysteries?
So I press on in this heart of mine’s
searching.

Things became clearer when I found the Word of God.
It gives me wisdom to stand against all this baffling talk.
Now when I hear others say what God is not,
And give Him credit for bad things He does not.
My heart will know better, for His Words are hidden inside
Protecting me from the destructions that come from believing lies.
God is near and He can be found, by every heart
That is out there, searching.

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