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Poetry in Celebration of His Wisdom

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The Master's Take on a Poor Man's Dream

The Lord Waits Patiently

For you to realize that ...

You are the lottery

That has already been hit

The hundred dollar bill

You’re focused on and hoping

To find on the ground as you walk in poverty…

The music at night’s end

That never promised you sound

You are the mansion

And the Mercedes

And the Jacuzzi

In the $250,000 tour of homes seduction

He waits for you

To use the unique gifts

He has given to you

So that when you arrive at His door

To collect your winnings

He will look at you straight in the eye

And say,

“For a milli-second, even though I knew the outcome,

I didn’t think you were gonna make it.

Didn’t think you would ever actualize the gift

Or even get off the treadmill long enough

To see what was in the rust tinted chest

You had driven by so many times without stopping.

Was it the wrapping that kept you at bay?

Not enough glitter to pull you in, dare I say?”

And you speechless in His presence

Tried to look Him right back in the eye--

But of course you couldn’t, and not only that

You really didn’t want to.

For servants must serve their calling

One of which is to be humbled in the presence of the Master

But you intuitively knew before He opened His Gates to

Speak the next Words

For they had been your heart’s desire

Words that you had longed to hear almost forever.

“Well done, my child. Well done.”

© 2006 Loretta Crosby. All Rights Reserved.