The Amputee

The client of death,
A spiritual Spartan,
Now wholly devoted to warfare

Of socialist soul,
I’ve no claims to my name;
I’m released from illusions of my share.

Like superfluous trappings
My dreams are cut off;
I’m free to race on with abandon.

My focus is set:
I’ve no hope but God,
The only safe net left to land in.

The choice is earth-shaking:
To follow Christ’s teaching,
To forsake my earthly desires;

Or laugh it away,
Live for the Now,
And hope they’re a myth, those hell-fires.

I don’t want to disparage
God mandate for marriage,
But let’s get our priorities straight.

For to focus on good things,
And thus lose God’s best will,
To miss knowing Him I would hate.

And so I’ll go on
In His blessed direction;
Let God clip what branches He will.

And I’ll make this my object,
The hope of forever,
And focus on God only still.