Poem: “The Good.”


——–

A personal matter, what you believe,

What is the fire in your furnace,

And why keep it a secret, if you think you’re right.

Perhaps, you’re afraid that you think the wrong thoughts.

Perhaps, you’re prejudiced and say the wrong words.

Maybe you talk, about that which you don’t understand.

Maybe, you don’t really know what you believe.

It’s okay, but you shouldn’t be ashamed.

—–

Where does the good go? It isn’t for reward,

It’s because you believe in a God who is the word ‘good.’

People aren’t good, don’t you see the news?

Sin and badness is within us — from Adam innate.

Even when we try, the good isn’t always good.

It’s hard to explain, but I won’t keep quiet,

Why should I keep my faith locked up, when others could benefit? 

Good deeds have no reward, but they make you feel good.

They are needed in a world where many things are wrong.

And are to be done because it is for the moral good to do.

Also because it was commanded by God to be good neighbours.

—-

You may not believe in a heaven.

Good deeds won’t get you there, but faith could be the cure.

Didn’t you ever wonder where the good came from,

Don’t twist what is truly good, evil is simply good twisted.

Don’t tell me faith is personal and should be hidden.

That’s like being caught in the darkest deepest blackest hole,

And having a candle that could light the way out,

But never lighting it because that candle is ‘personally yours,’

Someone else might find your light, and benefit from its glow,

I share my faith, because my light could lead others home.

So, where is your light, when your candle isn’t lit.

You’ll never find your way out of prison walking in black pitch.

——

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Advertisements

Flash Fiction for The Purposeful Practitioner: The Price


When I removed the contents from my tote-bag, I was perturbed to see a tattered book inside.“I could see the corner of folded yellow parchment sticking out of the torn lining of the battered book.” 

“What’s this?” I whispered. Instantly, I heard chanting. In my mind I pictured two woman murmering magic with candles in a circle around them. It was as if the image had been placed in my mind.

Suddenly, the parchment opened in front of me. Oddly, the symbols on the parchment made sense to me. The parchment was a spell for immortality. I had no time to think, the words of the incantation flew from my lips:

Live forever, consequences well known,

Speak the words, let your time now cease flow,

Your string never snipped, fate overlooked you,

Alone, you will wander, the cost is many souls.

When I stopped chanting, the parchment and the book had disappeared. My boyfriend stomped in the front door. Before I gave him a hello kiss, he said: ” Something about you is different.” Then I kissed him hungrily and he disintegrated in my hands. I burst into tears and I learned the price of eternal life — my kiss was the kiss of death.

——-
 

http://www.publicdomainarchives.com
 

——

Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting this Flash Fiction challenge.

——-

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.