Return again
to where it began -
the land belongs
to God.
His plan is good,
to care for all -
the land belongs
to Him.
Ask not what the world
can do for you -
ask what you can
give for the world.
We accumulate things -
stacks upon stacks -
stealing from the desolate,
raping the land.
Woe to us.
We will smother in things,
they will drain our blood,
cold winds will whistle
through barren stubs
and His land
will groan
and quake.
Endless consumption
depletes His bounty;
blind allegiance to
"bigger is better"
topples nations,
leaving the vulnerable
to wither
and beg.
These, these,
the least of these
are those His heart
bleeds for.
Woe to us
when we shut our eyes,
grabbing wildly
for more and
one more.
His economy is just -
we do not deserve it all,
or even "enough"
when others
far weaker
have less than
enough.
As I peer into
the storehouse of my heart
I see dust collecting
on useless things,
seemingly substantial
but devoid of life.
I glance down
and see my fists,
knuckles white,
turned inward
and
clenched.
Open my hands,
digit by digit -
help me let go
of all that glitters.
Let it fall through
my fingers
as I lift them
in service to You
and those
You love.
Remind me again,
again and again -
it all belongs
to You.
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