THE STRUGGLING BUTTERFLY

THE STRUGGLING BUTTERFLY

Behold the fly, the strong and ardent
Fighting like warrior to pass through the glass
Struggling all day, exerting force
To do what it thought it had always done

Quite transparent the glass may be
Quite spotless the solid crystal
Light can pass through the colorless
But no! No! It is not the thinnest air

Who would help the helpless fly
To discover an opening on the other side
Should I whisper, it would not hear
Should I shout, I'll threaten it more
So is a man in his world unknown

Struggling, struggles, witty sidestep
To pass through the crystal of his life of war
Should a Master be found to whisper the Way.
Oh! What needless pain he'd dare to bear

Hmm,tired and worn, the fly layed
Wounded, exhausted and dying.
So it is of a Christless life
Who may labour in vain till death
---2002 ---

BUT WHY?

"And one of the elders asked

What are these?

Whence came they?

To him who asked I muttered,

'Sir, Thou knowest' "

Just then one of the Elders addressed me:

"Who are these dressed in white robes,

and where did they come from?"
Taken aback, I said, "O Sir, I have no idea--but you must know." ...

Rev. 7:13-14

John was called to the valley of Patmos. He was taken on a tour to see what were supernatural to humans. Yet, while he was in a maze, his Guide asked him, 'Who are these? Whence came they?' I read that and I was amazed at the misery, then I wrote:

BUT WHY?

Who called up to see

Who then will know

What are these?

Whence came they?

Torrents of questions

My mind would ask

Pondering hours

My heart engaged

Over whys and whys of life

Why should he die, the little saint

Who knew no sin, save that of Adam

Nine months in belly, he killed no ant

Yet, at delivery for him to cry

Only to be lifted and christened a 'stillbirth'

Even when with the Master stay

Looking at me He asks me still

Who are these?

Whence came they?

What else could I say

Only, only Thou knowest