The Churchless
To those who came
To those who went
To those who didn’t seem to care.
I’ll write you a letter
about all my travels,
yes, I’ll lay my heart to bare.
If I may seem angry,
or maybe a little hurt
I certainly don’t mean to scare.
To the grand community
I write this prose:
The holy ones,
the elect,
the church:
All I ever wanted
was to struggle beside you
being a companion faithful and true.
A friendship, a bond
a three strand rope,
surely a worthy thing to pursue.
But ways lead on to ways,
week after week I’m tossed back into the fray,
a sorrow completely my own.
I’ve given, I’ve served
laid what I could at your feet
and yet alone is all I’ve grown.
Now I stand at a place,
a cold wind blowing and cutting
as the snow fills up deep inside.
No one seems to notice
cause we’re always all smiles,
I guess it’s just easier to hide.
I guess I could have been wrong,
maybe I just don’t belong,
at least that’s what significance keeps telling me.
But I won’t say what you want,
that you’re doing His work,
cause through the wind and snow I can’t see.
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