For You

Surrounded by those not knowing
What God has been showing
To this desolate planet beneath
Deluged in disbelief.

What can I change of me
To change some part of you?
Cycles through my brain
And I can’t contain, these thoughts of you.
This anger roars
And my temper soars, to new heights
As I face this question one more time. . . .

Lost they call you under the steeple
You’d never carpool with those people.
You don’t hear a voice and look away
Hoping Heston might ring someday.

What can I change of me
To change some part of you?
Cycles through my brain
And I can’t contain, these thoughts of you.
This anger roars
And my temper soars, to new heights
As I face this question one more time. . . .

Not amazed at your daze due to your past
So tortured, I try not to ask
But truth is truth and we’re all frail
Too much riding on this to fail.

The Face Behind the Font

I hear your words,
I hear you speak as I read them.
I can’t see your face,
But I know you are there.
We talk in endless conversation,
Like two old friends, which by now we have become.
You tell me of people unknown, and
I the same tell you.
on and on in the dark we chat,
Not with our mouths, but with our hands.
the only audible noise is that of a finger on a key.
Not a face to be seen,
But a box on which your words appear.
I can see and hear you say them in my mind,
Knowing a few short days ago we talked face to face.
I heard your words and you heard mine,
I could see your smile and acknowledgement,
And i know in a few short days,
I’ll be able to see the face behind the font again.