Shriveled Hands

No one, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God

-----------------------------/Shriveled Quivering Hands On the Plow: Jesus' Thoughts On His Command Of Discipleship



Mortal man puts on airs
with pretenses of importance, feigning superiority
haughty in the presence of the angel of death
turning up his nose
a misguided temporal being with fleeting existence naïve
to the fact that finitude is his robe of weakness
and dying the ultimate humiliating defeat, proof of ineptitude
wretched rags of feebleness embroidered with pain
his last moments are a quivering moue
decaying body placed in the grave, the epitaph:
sorrow was his joy, read somberly by his surviving kin
destined for the same fate
while the angels in heaven celebrate regularly
in their blitheness
contrasting his pitiable state with the true strength of immortality
and the glorious splendor of the cape of everlasting life
billowing in the winds of eternal timelessness
banishing Death down the River Styx
laughing at Hades
impervious to pain, bedecked with fanciful jewels of
ceaseless existing, preparing for any who come
exquisite victorious vestments
reserved for those who obey, disciples enduring to the end

and this age is abrupt
the plow of service to God meant for quick and efficient use
not for nonchalance
not for picking up and placing back down leisurely
or long lulls of inactivity while other pursuits are entertained
(arrogantly deemed more important)
the field is ripe, the harvest ready for the youthful in heart
(sons of blessed inheritance full of vigor, always alive)
because when the crop is collected time will suddenly halt
the threshing floor barren
and with it the piercing conviction of
obligations left behind
but by then man's hands will be old and withered
quivering as he futilely attempts to push the plow forward
falling limp as his heart seizes his actions
into dire defeat
trying not to look back
(on all his ephemeral mistakes)

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Luke 9:62