Between God and Me

What barrier stands between my God and me?
The only obstacle I know is I.
Between us He has cleared a path I see,
an empty space beyond a cloudless sky.
Why has God paved so clear a way to me?
How has He left it so there's only I?
Between us He has made me really free
to come or go, He's left me high and dry.
If space is vast betwixt Himself and me,
I know there's nothing in between when I
touch His face close to mine as spiritually
I close the tiny gap if I just try.
God's left it all completely up to me,
a humble glance of prayer on bended knee.

                       -- by Pete Voelz         1/04

The Past Undone

The things I've done can't be undone, they're gone,
the time I did them in has slipped away,
though often their effects go on and on,
so much of what is past remains today.
If wrongs I've done somehow live after me,
and my good deeds lie mostly with my bones,
they also lie in God's great memory,
for when we pray, He gives us bread, not stones.
So if I pray His mercy and repent,
He will undo the wrongs that I have done,
while He'll enhance the good that I present,
my sins He'll take and send beyond the sun.
O God, I know I cannot change the past,
but You can make it all be good at last.

                                -- by Pete Voelz         5/09

How Ready?

How ready am I for that Judgment Day,
which now is just in my imagination,
and not on my horizon anyway?
Can I be blamed for some procrastination?
God's kind of out of sight, thus out of mind,
am I prepared when I can't put Him first?
To see His face in others I'm so blind,
my sins still pile up, which is the worst.
I owe God everything, yet I ignore
the proper use of all is to prepare,
I should try to restore our poor rapport,
and give my worldly things less time and care.
O Lord, from my short life refocus me
to best prepare my long eternity.

                            -- by Pete Voelz     4/09

Wild God

The lion and the lamb are but a taste
of what for us our Wild God has in store,
His mercy will have all our sins erased,
to live with Him in joy forevermore.
No mountain there for us too steep to climb,
no chasm there for Him too deep to fill,
no wild ride without a wild time,
no wild card except His wild will.
I ask of Wild God, I calmly pray,
a wild life aimed at His wild goal,
so I can fearless face the wild fray,
and end the false fears of my wild soul.
I pray You, Wild God, that You'll increase
my wild love for You while we're at peace.

                  -- by Pete Voelz           2/10

Lost Things

The other day I lost my face,
I could not see it anyplace.

Just like the day I lost my lap
when lying down to take a nap.
I stood up and looked all around,
my little lap could not be found.

But then I thought a little bit,
that I might find it if I'd sit,
and so I sat and that was that,
without a sound, without a map
when I sat down, there was my lap.

Just like the day I lost my fist,
that sometimes hung around my wrist.
I shook my fingers up and down,
I looked and looked all over town.

So I decided I would take
my hand and fingers and just make
the little finger ball I missed
that I would simply call my fist.

And lo, so much to my surprise,
before my very wondering eyes,
was something hanging from my wrist,
and I knew then I'd found my fist.

So then I thought I'd find my face
if I looked in the proper place,
and so, please don't misunderstand,
I'd look for it in mirrorland.

I snuck up to the mirror wall,
there wasn't any face at all.
But when I looked directly in,
I saw the biggest silly grin,
for filling up the mirror space
I finally found my missing face.

Which goes to show if you just take
a minute to make no mistake
to find in that most special place
your lap, your fist, your silly face.

                  -- by Pete Voelz      4/09

Attend to God

If always You’re attentive, God, to me,
then should I not always attend to You?
For I’m Your creature, You’re my destiny,
You, Lord, Your love has always drawn me to.
The child attends the mother and the dad,
You are my mom and dad rolled into One,
You give me good and take away my bad,
and I’ll attend You as the ages run.
To know You, I must bring You far to near,
to find You, I must call to You in prayer,
to hear You, I must listen now and here,
and see with eyes of faith You’re always there.
To be attentive, I must look Your way,
and open up my heart to You today.

                           -- by Pete Voelz     1/2/12

The Lure of the Larkspur

In the garden park are lanky larkspur ladders,
each blossom blue climbs closer to the sky;
their lavish wall of color's all that matters
as lustrous purple petals lure the eye.

For blooms to excel along a sheltered border,
in fall deploy the seeds in soil rich;
though care is mild, growing with wild disorder,
they sprout in drought or rain without a hitch.

Medieval years placed Mary's tears, the larkspur,
in Mary's special gardens fresh for prayer;
no mind the way our summer may grow darker,
the larkspur cheers with Mary's tears of care.

There are your larkspurs shaped like star-girt candles,
with willowy light white centers bright-displayed
amidst the blue blooms--poison to some animals,
deceptive beauty by its brew betrayed.

These candle larkspurs mark an arc through Europe,
from France they prance their green romance to Greece;
their blossoms star-like front with farside spur up
combine to form a flower of warm caprice.

The family's cachet: Ranunculaceous flowers--
The Crowfoot or the Buttercup for the same;
Delphinium--the genus sum for bowers
of Dwarf or Tall, Spring, Garden--all by name.

From two to six feet tall on sticks they tower,
an avalanche of buds on branching sprays,
perrenials and annuals that shower
pink, violet, red and white to spread our gaze.

O larkspur, you're a loftier lure to beauty
than just the length your stalk's spare strength can rise;
her tears may fall, yet Mary's call to duty,
like pointed stem, a diadem to the skies.

The blooms of small but vigorous sprawling larkspurs,
like blossoming souls that climb to goals on high,
burst forth with fire like an angel choir of larks lures
God's graces as they cross the azure sky.

                              -- by Pete Voelz              2002