The easiest path to joy brings no joy at all. In my latest poem, I try and relay where Christ showed me real joy.

There must be something more, beyond the trouble of the day. A dream of sorts lies in each man, though it isn't a dream.

The postmodern disease has left a wake of confusion in even the sincerest of seekers. Truth eternal won't vanish, but for the moment, fo

In the darkness, unformed, unseen She treasured me, vastly more, than anything I made her sick and taxed her figure Nonetheless, her love...

It's purpose was torture, a wrathful infliction Destroying the body, the cruelest affliction For ages its victims were guilty deserving...

Paul said in Romans 8:20 that God willingly subjected his creation to futility, in hope that it would one day be released from bondage.