Skip to main content

Roots And Threads

//What, How, Why, Who, and Where//
What is up and down, but life 
going through moods that matter 
nothing once they are through? 
How might I abound, but strife 
release its horrid clatter 
o'er my every move? 
Why is my ev'ry sound, but rife 
with pointless, mundane chatter 
designed for naught anew? 
Who am I to amount, but fife 
through this unwanted platter 
painted only to behoove? 
Where's my final mound? But life 
remains in a ruined shatter 
with my torn roots askew?
//More Than Myself//
I am a thread in a quilt, 
Clinging to the unraveled fibers around me. 
They say, "Pull free, be your own thread!" 
Though I break, I will not split 
For though faded, those shredding threads are what ground me; 
And without seams, I'd be dead. 
I have roots, spread far and wide 
Under soil malnourished and sparse of flowers. 
And yet, there's no place to transplant me. 
The world screams, "You must divide Yourself from them." 
Don't they know solitude devours 
Those that haven't community? 
What is a flower without 
A field in which to bloom, or a vase to delight? 
The unicorn without its herd? 
"I'm more than me," I cast out. 
What sort of fool would cut the strings to let the kite 
Fly free? Is that not absurd? 
Yes, I'm tied to shattered souls. 
But they are pieces of me, not a spider's web. 
I wasn't born to self-venerate. 
Of myself, I'm not proved whole. 
Broken are they who forfeit roots and threads for self. 
How could I e'er separate? 


Post a Comment

Popular Posts

Living Like The Amish: Interviews With Three "English" Families PART I

Many people are obsessed with the Amish. I know at one time I was as well, and to a degree I still am. But my perception  has changed with experience. It started a long time ago when my family went to an Amish-held auction (no, it's not a place where you can buy Amish children, but a place where you can buy things from the Amish). I was eleven years old and enthralled to be surrounded by so many Amish. I loved the cockscomb flowers they sold everywhere. I bought a whole box for $2 and dried them for seeds so I could plant my own. But then I experienced my first reality shock concerning the Amish. I had assumed since they lived a simpler life everything about them was completely old-fashioned and natural. Imagine my horror when I saw Amish walking around with soda cans and store-bought ice cream. " Mom ," I said. "He's drinking soda!"  Left to right, back row: Jonny, Jonathan (Dad). Front row: Jacob, Keturah, Rebekah (Mom), Jonah (on Mom's

Peace During Patience

“Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.” - Philippians 4:6 My family and I were sitting around the breakfast table several months ago. Mom had just read this verse. One of the kids laughed incredulously, “What is it saying? Be careful for nothing – live recklessly?” “No,” I answered quickly. My tone was very matter-of-fact, blunt, as if I were all-knowing. “It means do not worry.” The kids all nodded among themselves and life continued on for them. But for me life paused at my words. I had heard this verse soooooooo many times. I had always known what it meant. But now? Now it really meant something . “Do not worry.” This path I've chosen. I can not see it. I can not feel it. I do not know where I am. I have chosen to follow God, and no other. But why did He hide the light from my eyes? I must take a step forward. But I do not want to. How long w

Inside The Land Of The Free

Hello. My name is Greg.  I have a lot of time to think. Too much time. Sometimes I think about my life - why I am sitting in prison. I wonder what I could have done different - my life plays before my eyes. "If only..." But even I know that no amount of good works would have stopped tyranny from finding fault with me. It is cold. My clothes are thin. My stomach is empty - occasionally filled with food of no sustenance.  I hide my face in my knees - as if that will somehow protect me from the horrors of this dark cold dungeon.  They keep it cold to freeze me, this I know. It is a part of their game - to drive a lesson into me. As if I have a lesson to learn solely because I was convicted. Convicted, but not  guilty. Years.  68 years for standing against injustice. How many years have I sat in here? I have forgot. All I know is this question, "Was I fated for this? Did God grant my birth

It Doesn't Take a Genius to Recognize Corruption

After attending the writer's conference I had the opportunity to spend a week with my dad in Las Vegas (we went to federal court trials). I don't usually speak much of his work as I'm not sure all what to say about it. He keeps the public updated with what's happening in court, with all the many men locked up that he's trying to help out. I think he said there are like 19 guys right now that he is specifically trying to help release.  {If any of you have heard of the Bundy Ranch Stand Off, you'll know a little of what he is doing} I won't go into too much detail with his work. I will say if you want to know more of how to help out and learn what's going on just do some googling - my dad's name is John Lamb. You should be able to find plenty on him ;p Anyways, I was quite shocked the first day. Security didn't surprise me at all. Very much like an airport ;p  Except, most of the security was actually nicer ;) I was very p