The haziness of images pale.
What I can make out alludes my senses.
My hand spreads fingers wide to reach the veil.
Everything closes in, the clawed fences.
Inside of me lurks the blur of purpose.
The meaning of living is, yes, the blur
that tarnishes my soul of all surplus.
“Who am I?” I bow before Him. “Sir?”
Out of the blue, the clarity invites
me to wipe away the lies I’ve been told.
It’s a choice always, ennui or sheer delights.
Stay where it’s warm (LOVE) or go seek the cold.
The purpose I seek is His Trust and Peace.
No blur exists for me: I choose LOVE’s lease.
- Timothy J. Verret (from the Words of Father God in Christ)