Best Foot Forward

I am a warrior, after the modern time
An orphan, a deserter past the prime
Bigger than I, bigger than us.
Of my stature and my authority
Who can speak?
Not only do I walk in the dust of fallen antiquity
Also

Of my education and my learning
Who can speak?
I have no form, no structure
To express my thoughts and my yearning.
Modern is painting a picture with no canvas
Pouring paint into piles as best we can
Never speaking of lines and hues
Brush-strokes, smoothing out shapes, and movement.
Remind me: why did we forget?
My challenge is to reach the same depth
With only my own to plumb.
My challenge is to echo the truer voice
With only my own to sound.
My hope is this: I am only and all just as much a man, as ever was.
Strength belongs to God; and if I can get out of the way
He will work through me.
The driest skin stretched thin sounds the loudest drum
Tuned and measured the taut string fills halls with its trembling submission.
Moses: Surely I can’t. Zechariah: Surely You won’t.
Me: Surely You will what I can not.
I give up because you know best, that
I must not give up, and steal Your chance
To make me into who You want me to be



SuperConqueror