The Wastrel

What did you say?

If You are speaking

I can not hear You;

Likely because I am not listening.

Please don’t bother me

Or break my concentration

On my latest whim of wanting

Or inhibit me from daydreaming

About all I have been missing.

 

I stopped numbering my days

Years ago

Ignoring Your wisdom,

Refusing to become engrossed

In anything besides

My own intentions

And definition of meaning;

Choosing not to spend or be spent

For You or anyone else,

But only for the glory

Of my own name

And pleasure of myself

No matter the expense

Or how demeaning.

 

Despite all You have given

I lost track of gratitude somewhere

Exhausting myself

In laboring for the wind,

Hiding my talents in the earth

Instead of lighting the wick

And lifting the torch

Amidst the unending gloom and illusions,

Making no room for an intrusion

Of plans beyond my sight

Or an attitude and effort

Deserving of the fight,

Succumbing to mind-numbing thoughts

Lacking worth,

While swimming in the shallow end

Of delusion, greed, and fancy.

 

Above it all

I allowed myself

To be enticed

More and more,

Peering out the window,

Opening wide the door,

And welcoming sin

To come in dancing,

Capturing my heart,

And owning the floor

To my own doom and hurt.

 

Never truly seeing my value

And the importance of my contribution

As You do

I have given so many excuses

Instead of myself,

Disregarding Your reasons

And only scratching my potential’s surface;

Praying with little intent

And even less depth

With a soul bent

On employing endless treasons

Against what I said I believed,

Rarely seeking Your countenance

And abstaining from Your purposes

Rather than honoring Your Name.

 

Finally when all breath is gone,

I have given up the ghost,

And I find myself

Standing before the throne

Of the great Lord of Hosts

What will I say

To defend all the waste

Of time, talents, and troubles?

What words will suffice

To explain the squandering of a life

And why all You offered

I disused and disdained

And let Your dream for me

Lay dormant on the shelf

Due to a heart

Tempted by distraction,

Lulled into inaction,

Full of doubt and indifference

Instead of empty of self?

 

Looking into Your holy eyes

At long last

Will I hear the words

I should desire and eternally prize,

“Well done good and faithful servant”?

Will I be able

To present an offering that abides

Or just mumble

And try to hide

Hands full of hay and stubble?

If I don’t repent and amend

My ways now,

Will I find to my dismay

That day

To be too little, too late

To justify or atone

For all I left undone?

 

What will I decide in this hour?

Which price will I pay?

To be nothing less

Than humble and faithful

Or to be nothing more

Than a wastrel?