Favorite Character in the Bible-Ruth
Ruth is my favorite character in the Bible. I love and adore her dedication to her mother-in-law, Naomi. After her husband died and Naomi told Ruth to go to her own people, the way she told the second daughter-in-law, Ruth pleaded to stay with Naomi. After reading about Ruth, I desire to be a woman of virtue in any way similar to her. Ruth 1:16,17
“Entreat me not to leave you,
Or to turn back from following after you;
For wherever you go, I will go;
And wherever you lodge, I will
Your people shall be my people,
And your God, My God.
Where you die, I will die,
And there will I be buried.
The LORD do so to me, and more
If anything but death parts you and me.”
My first reason is because Ruth loved Naomi and when she married into the family, she took her vows more seriously than anyone else I have read about. Ruth devoted her life to her husband and his family, regardless of death.
In our society, people rarely have this kind of loyalty to another person, and divorce is prevalent. Once a couple separates, they typically no longer maintain a connection with the in-laws. Not in all cases, especially if children are involved, but we jump from one marriage into another and continue making the same mistakes.
The second reason is that Ruth accompanied Naomi to Bethlehem. Despite having no ties there, she made the decision to be tied to whoever Naomi was tied to. Naomi was distraught when she returned to her native land and expressed it by telling the women there in Ruth 1:20, 21
“Do not call me Naomi; call me Mara, for the Almighty has dealt very bitterly with me. I went out full, and the LORD has testified against me, and the Almighty has afflicted me?”
My heart feels the pain and the loss that Naomi might have felt. She returned to her people and In doing so she felt anger and hurt to be an old woman who surpassed living longer than her husband and two sons.
As I read this passage in the Bible I am aware of the LORD working in Naomi’s life through Ruth. Ruth was an ambitious woman and requested permission of Naomi to go and glean the barley fields after the reapers among the sheaves.
This sentence and part of the story of Ruth allows me to imagine doing that type of work would be similar to our people working in the lettuce fields prior to mechanical engineering. The work was long and tedious, and Ruth was bent over from sun up to sun down.
The greatest gift in this illustration is the self-less attitude Ruth lived by. She expressed gratitude upon meeting Boaz who was the wealthy owner of the fields she was picking fragments from.
Throughout the story Ruth listens and obeys everything Naomi tells her to do. She never reveals doubt or complaints because her heart is full of love and compassion. Ruth lives her life with integrity, doing her best and trusting GOD for the rest.
My last reason for favoring the book of Ruth is because it shows that if we believe and do not doubt in the LORD, then He is faithful and just to provide for our needs. Ruth's belief in the God of Naomi and her commitment to live accordingly led to her being blessed beyond measure by the end of her story, along with Naomi.
I do my best to live my life similar in helping others and not complaining. I believe that if I put myself out there for anyone else; it is not for selfish gain but to honor the LORD my God.
A Wax Letter of Ones and Zeros
I re-read your piece titled “Wax Fruit” and it brought up a few thoughts and questions about “life as we know it” and “the afterlife.” 010010 101110 01. I thought this was a fun piece to discuss as it is quite relevant to today with our current technology, but also society and religion, plus it ties directly with your name. So here goes.
In the poem, Wax Fruit you wrote that you asked AI to make wax fruit, essentially asking Artificial intelligence to create artificial fruits which is the artificial art of artificial art being created using artificial art based on the artificial. 10010110 101001 10101.
How deep do you think it goes or can go? Is there a limit to that depth and does it circle at some point? 00010 10 110 11010. And if it completes a circle, is that history repeating itself? Is reality exactly as you describe the artificial art of artificial art being created using artificial art based on the artificial? I know we’ve talked before and correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe you are god-fearing in some capacity. 01001 0 01000. Does your faith allow any wiggle room for other possible explanations about our existence or the afterlife? Is it possible that we are a clone, of many trials of humanity digitalized and a compilation of failures? 0101001.
There are references in the bible where society is removed or wiped clean and then restarted. There are tons of archeologic evidence proving entire civilizations that once thrived and have since been removed or disappeared. I ask where are the bodies? Did they ascend into space or are they in heaven or is space heaven? Are the Anunnaki real and are they mentioned in the bible? 0001011101100 1 110 0. Many say they are, but if aliens made us, would that make them our God, or are they built into the “world” around us and just another distraction in our culture of misinformation, mistrust, and part of the algorithm? 00000 0 10 0010 111 0. Is God a computer? Are you open to the idea of God being a computer? It does say that he made us in his image, so if we are a simulation or a series of zeros and ones, and you are open to other ideas, is it possible that God is too, a program or software? 00 1.
1 1 1001 101 110101. I have recently thought how interesting it would be if we are a simulation created to find a solution in the future before it is too late, and parallel universes are simply the computer running simultaneous algorithms or mathematical equations to solve a problem faster because humans are running out of time, but if that were true then in the future we would've had to ask AI to make a complex wax fruit, and that means we are simply the artificial art of artificial art being created using artificial art based on the artificial to save mankind. 01 10101 1 00. What’s your take?
.......404Hill 01 00 1001001 1
FREE LOVE Dispensary
Ali stood in line at the Federal Resource for Emotional Enrichment dispensary to receive her weekly supplement of Low-dose Oxytocin Vital Enhancement. Her feet were tired after a day's work, but there was nowhere to sit. She could feel every crack in the pavement through the thin soles of her shoes. There were five people in front of her, at least a hundred behind her. She glanced over at the much shorter Pay-for-LOVE line wistfully. Maybe one day, she could afford to buy her LOVE, and not rely on government hand-outs.
Out of boredom, Ali read the faded, peeling signs she'd read thousands of times before. "A little LOVE goes a long way!" "A heart a day keeps the blues away!" "LOVE, scientifically proven to reduce loneliness, depression, and anxiety." "LOVE is for everyone!" "LOVE = Happiness = Goodness." She spared a thought for all the people who lived before LOVE. Would she have survived back then?
Her phone vibrated, it was Gary. She hoped she had enough time to wrap up the conversation before she got to the front of the line. It didn't occur to her to decline and call him back. He wouldn't be mad, just disappointed, and Ali knew from experience that life was easier when Gary wasn't disappointed.
"Hi Gary," Ali tried to sound bright and happy, as if she hadn't just worked a 10-hour shift on her feet.
"Hey babe, just checking in on you, are you on your way home?" Gary sounded relaxed, and Ali felt herself relax too.
"Yeah, just standing in line at the FREE LOVE dispensary," Ali said.
"Thanks sweetheart, it means so much that you do that for us."
"Of course," Ali said. She was well past feeling any resentment that Gary never stood in line for their LOVE. After all, like he said, it would be such an inconvenience for him to leave their apartment where he worked from home just to stand in line. So much easier for her to just pick it up on her way home.
"Can you swing by the store on the way home? I'm craving your world-famous stroganoff. Pwetty pwease with a cherry on top?" Gary pulled out his baby voice.
Ali hated the baby voice. It made her feel icky, somehow infantilized and like a dowdy old nurse at the same time. She forced a smile into her voice.
"Sure Gary, I'd be happy to."
"Thanks honey, love ya."
"Love you too Gary, I gotta go, I'm almost at the front of the line." Just two people in front of her now.
"Ugh, why are you always in such a rush to get me off the phone? Are you there with someone else?" As quick as a switch, Gary's voice turned from sweet to accusatory.
Ali's heart pounded in her chest, and she felt her hands go warm and clammy. She froze, unsure what to say.
"I'm sorry babe, that sounded really jealous, didn't it? I didn't mean it, I trust you 100%. I'll see you soon." And just like that, Gary's voice was sweet again, almost apologetic.
"Ok, bye." Ali managed and hung up.
She slid her phone away, just one more person before her. She started going over the shopping list for the stroganoff in her mind, calculating how much it would be. Could she also afford the bottle of wine that Gary said "completed the meal?" While they split the cost of rent equally, she often paid for all their food. Asking him to chip in was more trouble than it was worth. She calculated that if she put off getting new shoes she could afford the wine.
As if on cue, her right shoe clapped as she stepped forward. The sole was separated from the rest of the shoe and had been re-glued multiple times. Another gluing should hold a couple more weeks, and then she'd get new shoes for sure. It would be worth it to make Gary happy.
Without saying anything, the clerk held out a scanner, and Ali placed her ID card under it. The clerk read the scanner and portioned out fourteen heart-shaped pills into a small plastic bag, placing it on the counter instead of handing it directly to Ali.
Ali took the little bag gratefully, and said "Thanks." More out of habit than with any expectation that the clerk would respond.
The clerk simply raised one eyebrow slightly and tilted his head, as if to say, "Move on."
Ali turned, bag in hand. The clerk, through a loudspeaker, said in a gentle, charming voice, completely at odds with his expressionless face, "We are out of FREE LOVE for the day. Come back tomorrow, visit one of our other locations, or move over to the Pay-for-LOVE line." And with no ceremony, pulled down the cover on his side of the counter.
The hundred people behind her in line let out quiet groans, many mumbling to themselves. Some moved off, more moved into the Pay-for-LOVE line. The woman directly behind Ali let out a strangled sob.
"Are you ok?" Ali wasn't used to engaging with strangers, but something about this woman pulled at her heart and it was unusual for people to display sadness in public. The woman reminded her of her mom, in her forties, brown hair peppered with gray. Laugh lines and worry lines on a kind face.
"My children," the stranger whispered. "They've never been sad in their lives."
"Can you take them to the church?" It was well known that the church gave LOVE to anyone who could sit through their sermon. It was handed out right after the communion, and Ali had many memories of sitting on the pews, warm between her parents, as they waited for their portion of LOVE. It was where she'd developed the ability to think through problems in her mind, to tune out and turn inwards, relying on her own imagination, feeding her dreams while appearing outwardly attentive.
The woman's eyes, holding back tears, turned hard and stubborn. "No." But then her eyes dimmed to despair. "I suppose we will have to."
Ali understood. Her parents had encouraged her to think for herself, and even though the church told them how to think, how to live, they knew not to take the lessons to heart. At church it was Mom and Aunt Jo. Only at home could it be Mom and Mama. Ali had not stepped foot in the church since her parents had passed.
The woman pulled a locket from her shirt and opened it, drawing strength from what she saw inside. At a glance, Ali could see four faces, two women on one side, and on the other, two children. Ali's parents had worried constantly about her getting enough LOVE growing up. Looked for any sign of sadness, depression, anxiety. Ali remembered pretending to be happy so her parents wouldn't give up their own LOVE for her.
Without thinking, Ali opened the bag still in her hand and carefully drew out four hearts. "Here."
The woman looked up, shocked, and gently took the hearts from Ali's hand. "Thank you," she whispered."
"You're welcome." Ali pocketed her bag and walked away quickly, already regretting her moment of kindness. What would Gary say?
Her shoe clapped as she walked, mocking applause for her grand gesture. She could go on half rations for a week, she'd done it before when Gary needed an extra dose. It would be fine.
She tuned out the sound from her broken shoe and focused on her grocery list. Ali rounded the corner and collided with someone, causing them to drop a sign. Feeling out of sorts already, Ali took a moment to gather herself by picking up the sign. It read, REAL LOVE IS INFINITE. Oh no, she thought, an Endless Love Freak. The ELF, as they called themselves was gathering their composure also, looking a little rattled from the collision.
"Sorry I bumped into you," Ali said, holding out the sign and hoping she could get out of this encounter quickly. Gary didn't like to wait too long for dinner.
"That's ok, thanks," the ELF took the sign and smiled warmly at Ali. "Hey, are you ok?"
Ali's face must have given something away, "I mean, no, but what can you do?" She was surprised to have given such an honest answer. It was out of character for her to burden anyone with her real feelings, let alone a stranger. People with too many negative emotions were considered LOVE-less. Obviously, they couldn't afford enough of the heart to be happy.
The ELF's smile turned slightly sad, not with pity, but with empathy. "It's ok not to be ok, I'd be happy to listen if you ever need a friendly ear. My name is Robin."
"Thanks, Robin, I'm Ali." It was the kindest offer Ali had received in a long time. A very long time. Such a small thing, but it threatened her protective shell. She felt seen and vulnerable at the same time. To distract herself from the uncomfortable feeling, she focused on Robin's face, trying to come up with a polite conversation ender.
Robin's face was a series of contradictions. An expression of curiosity and child-like wonder, but also wisdom and intelligence that spoke of experience and education. The more Ali looked, the more she was drawn into Robin's eyes, a deep smokey grey. She pulled her gaze away, and the loss of connection was a physical pain. Ali wanted to pull out her bag of LOVE pills and take one right there. Loneliness and longing carved out a familiar hole in her heart. Depression and anxiety weren't far behind. Guilt and apathy nibbled around the edges. Bitterness was an easier emotion to handle.
"How can you possibly believe there's infinite love?" Ali snapped.
"I could give you a thousand reasons, argue with you until the end of time. I could tell you about how people loved before we created the LOVE pill, how they felt a whole range of emotions, but I won't. Nothing I say could change what's in your heart. All I can say is I wish you health, the full spectrum of human emotions, I hope that you find purpose and recognize your own worth. I love you." Robin spoke plainly, but from the heart.
It made Ali angry. "How could you possibly love me? You don't even know me!" But she wasn't angry with Robin, she felt betrayed. How was it possible that she felt more love from this stranger than she'd felt since her parents had left her. Certainly more love than she'd ever felt from Gary.
"I have to go." She felt a wave of emotions threatening to overtake her.
"Ok," Robin said simply, holding out a business card.
Ali took it out of habit and so she wouldn't have to speak again and hurried off. The claps from her unglued sole now sounding like accusatory slaps.
An hour later, finally home, Ali dropped the grocery bags on the floor as gently as she could. She was physically and emotionally drained. She continued moving on muscle memory and sheer stubbornness. She put away the groceries, put water on to boil then retrieved the glue and fixed her shoe, setting it to cure by the front door.
"You're finally home, what took so long?" Gary asked.
"I ran into an ELF on the street," Ali started.
"You ok babe?"
"I'm fine," Ali said out of habit. She felt the slightest stir of affection at Gary's concern.
"You gotta watch out for those nutcases."
"Mm hmm." Ali tuned Gary out as he started on a rant about ELFs and how LOVE was a resource and as such, there was a finite supply. Supply and demand, LOVE was for the deserving, the elite deserved more LOVE, hadn't they earned it? She'd heard this rant so many times, she knew where to nod and make affirmative noises.
He followed her around the kitchen as she cooked her Mama's stroganoff. The familiar motions brought comfort and nostalgia.
They had their own rhythm, Ali thought, as they moved around each other in the small kitchen, Gary stood by the counter as Ali pulled things from the fridge, then by the fridge as she chopped the mushrooms and sliced the beef and cooked it on the stovetop, added the cream and salt and pepper. Back to the counter when she drained the pasta in the sink. A dance, practical, if not romantic. Maybe this is as good as it gets.
"What's that babe?" Gary paused mid-rant.
To Ali's chagrin, she realized she'd said that last part out loud. "Nothing Gary, I'm not sure what I was saying. Just talking to myself."
"Aw babe, it's a good thing you're so cute. I love you, stupid bunny." Gary said with affection, which made it worse in Ali's opinion. If he was nasty, she could fight back. Instead she just felt ever smaller.
She wanted a LOVE pill so bad, she could almost imagine the wave of emotions the pill brought, chasing away the dark shadows, replacing despair with acceptance, the feeling of a hug, that everything would be ok, that feeling of belonging. Her hands shook a bit as she plated their meal and brought it to the table.
"Did you get the wine?" Gary asked, a little too sweetly.
"I did, I know how much you like it." Ali said.
"Don't you mean how much we both like it sweetheart? You're the best. Do you want me to give you some money for all the food?" Gary asked as he opened the bottle and poured them both a glass.
"No, it's fine, I'm good on funds," Ali said, putting thoughts of new shoes out of her mind.
"I'm so proud of you babe, you were such a financial mess when we first met, honestly, you had no sense. Ha ha." Gary always thought his puns were hilarious. Ali shrunk even smaller.
The thought reminded Gary of the LOVE pills. "Oh babe, why don't you give me the hearts so I can keep them safe for both of us." Gary liked to pretend he was the great protector.
"I'll give you yours, but I'd like to hold on to my own this time, Gary." Ali had forgotten until now that she was short the four hearts she'd given to the woman with children. She didn't want to explain her actions to him. Unfortunately for her, Gary was always so good at picking up when she was trying to hide something.
"Give me the hearts sweetie. Now." Gary didn't raise his voice, but the tone made Ali shiver. Reluctantly, she handed over the bag.
It didn't take long for Gary to count, only eleven hearts to last the both of them a whole week, seven days. And the temper he always kept so carefully under wraps started bubbling up. Usually, a heart a day kept Gary's anger away. And when that wasn't enough, Ali always gave him hers, it was easier for her to pretend to be happy than to deal with Gary angry.
"Where are the rest, Ali." Gary's voice was cold ice, the question more of a statement of disappointment. Anger was not far behind.
Ali was so tired, just so tired. She had nothing left for pretending. "I gave them to an older women with children. She needed them more than I do. You can have your full seven, I'll just take the three for the week."
"That's not for you to decide. I can't believe how dumb you are. What if I need more this week? Did you think about that? You're so selfish, so ungrateful, you disgust me. How dare you give away your hearts to some whore on the street? I can't believe I'm with such a lazy, stupid slut."
Ali was speechless, Gary had never been so openly insulting before. He'd hinted, he'd insinuated, but always with a just kidding attitude so she never felt she could take offense. It was almost a relief to hear him say out loud all the things she'd heard under the surface for years. Her silence and lack of response unnerved him.
Gary smiled, "Oh babe, you know I'm just kidding, we'll have to make some sacrifices, but we'll make it work. What are we going to do about that bleeding heart of yours? You're so lucky you have me, no one else could ever love you."
"Robin." Ali whispered. Robin's simple statement of love earlier that day ran through her mind, and with it a storm of emotions.
"Who the hell is Robin?" Gary shouted. "Is she your secret lover? I knew you'd turn out perverted, just like those evil demons who raised you."
Gary's insult to her mothers broke through the storm of emotions like a bolt of lightning, throwing everything briefly, starkly into focus.
"Robin, who I think is non-binary by the way, is the ELF I met on the street today, and I felt more real and honest love from them in five minutes than I have from you in the last five years. I may not deserve your love, but I certainly don't deserve your hate. I'm done."
"I'm done with you first! Get out!"
"This is half my apartment."
"Not according to the lease." Gary's smirk was slimy, and Ali wondered that she'd ever felt a drop of love or affection for such a creep.
He was right, when they'd signed the lease, he'd made up some story about it being better for Ali if only his name was on the lease. Ali realized she didn't care. She didn't care about any of it. There was nothing in this apartment that was worth her spending another second in this lie.
With nothing but her phone and wallet, she walked over to the door, and put on her shoes, hopefully the glue was dry enough by now.
Gary realized she was actually leaving, maybe he'd thought she would try to apologize and smooth things over as she'd done so many times before. "If you walk out that door, don't bother coming back until you're ready to apologize."
Ali said nothing. She thought about all the ways she'd minimized herself to show Gary love. She thought about all the times she'd shorted herself on LOVE, on love, for him. Maybe it wasn't his fault, maybe he was just a product of these times. It didn't really matter, like Robin said, you can't change someone else's mind. She would make the choice to love herself.
"You'll never make it on your own, good luck getting enough hearts to survive out there."Gary sounded desperate.
Ali stepped through the door without looking back, and closed the door behind her. She felt sad, and let herself feel it. She felt pity for Gary, and let herself feel that. She felt fear, but also exhilaration. A feeling of freedom she'd never imagined.
As she walked away, she heard Gary slam the door open. "You worthless bitch!" he screamed. "You're going to die alone and miserable, you freak!"
Something else was simmering up, embarrassment? No, anger. Anger made her feel hot, made her blood rush. She felt powerful.
Freak. Ali pulled Robin's business card from her pocket. Endless Love Freak, Robin Hart (they/them), with a number underneath. And on the back, Love is infinite. Are you ready?
"Yes." Ali said to herself, and called Robin's number.
James 3:2 - Needing Assistance With My Imperfections (Bible Journal)
" Indeed, we all make many mistakes. For if we could control our tongues, we would be perfect and could also control ourselves in every other way (James 3:2 NLT)."
This sums up one of my biggest life challenges lately. If I was perfect, I would always be cool and calm, never getting upset and lashing out. If I was perfect, I would always be on top of prayer and devotional time, starting the day with those practices instead of hitting the snooze alarm once again. If I was perfect, I would be caught up with everything and not have a frightening backlog of podcasts, books, writing projects, games, etc. If I was perfect, I would prioritize serving my family with a smile, and not grumble about having to take time away from whichever sports broadcast is on the radio. But alas, I definitely miss the mark and fall short on all of these things and more, including using my tongue to say things I wish I hadn't on occasion. Which makes me very grateful for the recent reminders through church messages/podcasts that our God is all about grace, not perfection. He not only wants to forgive us and bring us back into His good graces, but He wants to build a relationship with us where we can be empowered to make better choices, including taking some control over our tongues and priorities.
Lord, if left to my own devices I most certainly will never be perfect, and I will continue to make even more mistakes, including falling short on following through with the things I should be the most focused on. But if I work on seeking You and growing our bond, I know You can help me to be better. Thank You for Your grace and willingness to work with someone like me. Please help me to prioritize and treasure the most important things in life, especially fellowship with You. In Jesus' name I pray, Amen.
Schopenhauer’s blur to the unknown, the ember, and a beguiling eye.
On the show today, we open with a famed and tortured mind, from a certain point of view, and into the depths of two writers here that have written pieces to reach down into our cores and feel the colors of their minds. To quote the character of Doc Holliday in the best western made, from 1993, "That's just my game."
Here's the link to the Prose. Radio feature, and we'll post the writers and pieces in the comments below.
Thank you for being here.
-The Prose. team.
i have felt many things for you and
there have been so many words that i
have wanted to say
i could not
now i must live with the regret of never
having the strength to let them be known
there is a sense of grief that i have to live
with, the death of what could have been
and now will never be
i burned for you in silence and let
you wonder in the dark
i sit here in ruin, dreaming of you
while you lay there with her
she is better with words than i
Will of God
ever moving wheel
endless with a purpose
and I, standing on the precipice
can only arrive at information
by looking down at the dirt flying by past me
because the sky in perfect motion
works in patterns I can't see
I can feel it
moving me as I walk upon it
I can feel the ease of infinity
God looks down on what He made and sees me
I look down at what he made and see Him
God directs the hearts of His children
I direct my thoughts toward Him
I am a lost and wayward body laying dying on a spinning earth
but in me is the life that God breathed into all the world
and in me is the Spirit of Promise
and He moves in with fervent potency
as time unfolds, fulfilled prophecy
and the spinning wheel winds down
to be halted and held by the hand
of the King who returns.
We were meant for me
I can never stop loving you,
I can only stop trying
But you’re always on my mind
We were meant for me
Flowers upon flowers, by the hour
I message you my love, my love?
Can’t you feel my passion?
We were meant for me
Your eyes gleefully meet another’s—
I watch from afar, my heart
an internal alarm is telling me
We were meant for me…
Tea Time Before Apocalypse
I am an old man,
Knee deep in useless revelation,
I am an old man,
Betrayed by atrophied intention,
Though my tumble of thoughts
Have aged into obscuring brume
Which thicken once whispering skies,
To a chokehold jumble of blood orange smears
And ash leaden grey,
I hunt for the colors,
That the years wore away,
As I rage for the path,
Through turnstile faith,
And rage for the path,
Of red letter days.
I swim in a sea of grass,
Towards the telling crumb trails
Of yesteryear’s diaries,
That scribbled proud glories,
In spidery scrawl,
That graffiti of buoyant joy
Tattooed to each page,
And inked to each wall.
I hold still my heart,
Through a blizzard of leaves,
As the bruise of the dark,
Deepens it’s reach,
With unwonted relent,
And menacing greed,
To pluck me away,
From the path that I seek,
As the bowing of trees,
Sing hushed melodies,
Under a custard yellow sun,
Born stubborn and free.
I dart for the gates,
Where the lifeblood skies
Are toned rich blue,
To join the dream haze chorus
Of roundabout lazing clouds,
And heaving clusters of starry crowns
That float beyond the bounding spheres,
And skirt the depths of golden years,
Into the carnival frenzy
And once upon a time’s
Hungry for purpose,
And starving for truth.
Please dear God,
Let me float up there too.
And through feverish drains
Of sinkhole fears,
The hourglass grains,
Empty their years,
Through furious tide and seething storm,
I’m now a dream
That’s been reborn.
And I remember…
The day you packed a checkered box
Of rube cheap straw,
To have a picnic
In a crude swath of grass,
Beneath the thunderbolt phantoms
Of humming power stations,
Casting nuclear eyes
Towards our wind trembled spot,
The dithering flutter of furies,
Of electrostatic shock,
The vibrating dance,
Of the doomsday clock,
Each terrible tick,
Each terrible tock,
Courting our breath,
And casting our lot.
And I remember…
As the shade of wild heather,
Served us simple refuge and love,
While we ate up oranges,
And chocolate cake,
And happy talk.
For it was tea time,
And midsummer calm,
Before the snaking fury,
Before the rain of bombs.
Please pass me your prized lemonade, mum.
It should have won awards,
Or at least have made the news.
“It’s pretty good, but not THAT good, son.”
And after a quick bake,
In this sauna of a sun,
We pack up quick
Before tower eyes,
Tell the future
What we’ve done.
And I remember…
As the shade of wild heather,
Served us simple refuge and love,
While we ate up oranges,
And chocolate cake,
And happy talk.
For it was tea time,
And midsummer calm.
But now it is forever,
In my diary,