(God’s Sonnet by Timothy J. Verret; “it’s how I cope to hope in Real Love and that I’m ‘still real’ this daily leavened bread”)
Do you ever question if you’re still real?
Everything is “fine,” right? So, why this “what?”
Which mask will you wear today? Latex? Steel?
Won’t weigh ’cause you’ll still take it in the gut.
I oft’ feel unreal like a muted toy.
Who stole my batteries? Who would do that?
It was me. I’m the one who robs my joy.
Batteries back inside, ready to chat.
Flesh He was. Spirit is He now. Still real.
Flesh we were. Spirit are we now. We feel
“what” we feel to remind us we’re still real.
We wind up God to speak Real Love. We heal.
Got breath? Real. Got hope? Real. Got God? A steal!
The Christ of Compassion. YES! We’re still real.
