Prodigal Rocket

I feel like a second stage rocket, just broke free of the atmosphere,
No more regret to shock test this, hoping for His glory in this year,
Now I’ll expect to retain His blessings when spoken, I’m eager to see,
What’s coming next is–how do I expect this?–a walk free of soliloquy.

I have a secret
That I’m not gonna tell,
I would share it,
But what would that help?
If you want it,
Then know I’m a truth bell,
Search my off’rings,
I’m sure you’ll see it as well.

This seems to be a slow-burning stage,
The prodigal returns despite his mind rage,
But my Father reaches out instead of turning me away,
Covers all the distance, in spite of my place in this race,
In spite of my pace in this race.

I never fell away,
It was my baggage claim,
My muddy porch frame,
The basement laboratory’s in flame,
I’ve let go of the shame,
I’ve let go of the shame.

The moon’s passing by us,
I wonder if its heart’s like that dust,
Perceiving our pain and there’s no disgust,
Just watching us and shining when it must.
But does the moon cry for the unjust?
Why should the moon cry for the unjust?

And the stars are infinitely separate, apart,
Speckles in the tar, twinkling light, God’s flashy car,
Yet the past is more distant still, behind me’s a further far,
Tomorrow’s never more than a step away even when it’s hard.


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