“How Came I Hither?”

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  “I observed in the herbage a number of weather-worn stones, evidently shaped with tools. They were broken, covered with moss and half sunken in the earth. Some lay prostrate, some leaned at various angles, none was vertical. They were obviously headstones of graves, though the graves themselves no longer existed as either mounds or depressions; the years had leveled all. Scattered here and there, more massive blocks showed where some pompous tomb or ambitious monument had once flung its feeble defiance at oblivion. So old seemed these relics, these vestiges of vanity and memorials of affection and piety, so battered and worn and stained—so neglected, deserted, forgotten the place, that I could not help thinking myself the discoverer of the burial-ground of a prehistoric race of men whose very name was long extinct. Filled with these reflections, I was for some time heedless of the sequence of my own experiences, but soon I thought, “How came I hither?”” An Inhabitant of Carcosa B...

Dear God, bless the status quo

Dear God, bless the status quo,
We like things as they are.
Lead us not down narrow roads,
Let us go not far.

We've built our houses, set up shop,
We've conqur'd mount and range.
Then sea, now space (we'll never stop);
Just don't ask us to change.

We like our gospel nice and soft,
our preaching short and sweet;
Our music loud, our buffet oft'n,
and prophets on the street.

The truths too sharp for tickled ears,
It shaves our nice, warm fuzzies.
Growth takes too long (we want it now!),
Not Bible-thumped head noogies.

We'll hold our right to stand our ground,
To keep and not divest
those things we have that serve us most,
Of fleshly inter-est.

It's hard to live by what's not seen,
Ease shapes our lives so much.
Now hurry up those points and poems,
so we can go to lunch!

There is a foe who roams this world,
That kills good church bus’ness;
He only watches for himself--
That enemy is us!

(Inspired by John Betjeman's WWII poem, "In Westminster Abbey.")

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