Flights of Faith

Thursday, September 24, 2009

King Neb

Knock it down.
All that gold.
All that pride.
I want to see your miracles through the fires I create
Make me a different sort of pyromaniac
Take my ambition, my selfishness, my love for idols that don’t talk back
I pray against the furnace I built by myself,
For those sparks not to fly
For that fire not to lick.
Bless Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego
Mystery stood with them in my attempt to burn them.

Mystery, I need you.
I don’t know how to hear from you.
You, the one who spoke so confidently to those three friends.
Help me.
I want to murder, I want riches, I want to be the King of all no matter what they say
But I’m beginning to think you’re jealous not of my wealth or my power or my rule
but simply jealous of me.
Why else would you have sent them? Why else would they be alive – and me with them?
How can you be so confident of your reign, God?
How could you let me destroy your nations and your people? What kind of God are you?
I fear your insanity even as I ponder my own.
My conscious cannot understand so speak to me dark sayings of the night...


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