“At the Edge of my Island”

(I’ll probably change this later)

The splendor of the seashore,

captured in a triune God. 

Appealing to the senses,

I succumb to the peace of you. 

The sun that warms my body. 

I can feel it baking,

ever so toasting my skin,

washing over me in a shower of light. 

The gleam that catches my eye

 from the crest of the waves. 

The glitter of sunbeams

that dance upon the sea of sand.

The quiet ocean wind

that sweeps over my exposed flesh. 

The cool, crisp refreshing air chilling my mind. 

How it softly beats against my cheeks. 

And the waves that crash upon my shore. 

Water chasing past my ankles. 

The salty mist and spray of the ocean

cleanses my sandy face. 

Christ the sun burns within. 

The Holy Spirit wind carries me away. 

And the waves of God come

forcefully smashing the shores of my life

or gently lapping the beach of me. 

Shelter of Joy

The angels sing hallelujah

As I move to the highest depths.

All of these things in my hands,

I hold up in vain.

Emptying my heart of all that’s there,

On my knees before you.

Never let me go.

I see your mercies

As they spring about around me.

Like the angels dance around your throne.

Oh my refuge from my pain,

Cover me with sweetest peace.

In my brokenness

Accept my quiet worship.

Melt my shame

And usher me into your house.

That I may wash your feet

And touch your robe.

As angels are silenced by your gaze

That you reach out to me.

I will embrace this season of solitude.

This is the time of renewal with you.

My pilgrimage to isolation.

And I will be changed from your presence.

And the angels will sing hallelujah again.

- Mike Cobb

"The Latter Painlessness"

Rain falls on the pavement as this prodigal runaway ventures out again.  Resisting love in such a timeless fashion.  Leaving my father, my lover, my friend, to indulge myself in this sinful excursion, that inevitably ends in the loss of all.  What jealousy drives me to flee my sanity?  Fear of you and fear of all.  In search of some magical elixir that offers only imaginary indemnity.  Hope seems a fantasy, and I reside to become a shell of your stereotypical me.  The peaceful despair of rain falls on the pavement as this prodigal runaway ventures out again...

- Mike Cobb