Distant moon laid starkly on the blue,
Turning back its ever bearing forth,
Impotent strides fall deaf to pull it through,
The canvas of the sky with hollow mirth,
Turning back the same, running to the same,
It eludes thought to trounce upon the day.

Cheesy chips,
A classic from the counter up yonder,
Flavourless but the textures good,
Until you pour and pour the salt,
Now you have something quite the treat.

Rend to Him what doesn't shine,
But beats and hums and gasps in awe,
Send to him for living wine,
In exchange for breathing gifts,
Gifts He bought with more than time,
More than pity and more than advice,
But pulsing flesh for flesh, and many signs,
Goodness flows from such a Lord,
And slavery yields eternal life,
For righteous ways make glad the heart,
And humming things shall gasp with joy,
Free at last to truly live,
Free at last to know the truth,
Know him like the friend He is,
Know him as the great I AM.