Armchair
I site in an armchair with my head in my hands,
If this is the way You want it, I’ll never understand.
I know things aren’t perfect like You are,
But I’ve felt Your presence and wished everything afar.
I want to cloister in a hayloft with all of Your Creations out of my mind,
I would do more than dream but I can’t seem to find the time.
No one offers me any wine or a valley full of grass
To lie on and forget and pass the flask.
I do not know what is out beyond the shelter of this loft
It is hard to resist going forth when you are down low and the music’s soft.
Author Note: this one i am also not sure when I wrote it, because I misplaced it and forgot about. i was feeling sheltered and surrounded by "godly things." i had the burden to walk among the derelict, but did not want to because i was too safe to come down out of the loft i was hiding in. it is tempting to just stay on your knees at the altar and not get up, but you have the duty to do more than worship.
About the author
I live with my wife, an artist, in Indianapolis. Besides poetry, I like to take photographs, read books, travel overseas, and listen to news/political podcasts, college lectures and classic literature. You can read about my approach to poetry on my poetics page. To stay in touch, follow me on Twitter or connect on a variety of other social networks.
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