Trustworthy and True

The old is being made new;
Your Glory, Your Kingdom,
Come into view.

What is to be said, when this day comes;
To look upon beauty
Brighter than the setting sun.

It is a dream fulfilled;
Through these narrow gates of pearl,
The entrance to eternal glory—Your Will.

Never again will I hunger;
I will never thirst,
For You are leading me to living water.

All I had known was trustworthy and true;
Upon these streets of golden glass,
My soul finds its home—My soul finds You.

Jordan McFarlen

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Riverbed

Gentle spring, grit and gravel—
Carry us through.
Rolling river, rain-fed power—
Wash my cousins free.
Sovereign stone, stayed and true—
Change our course.

Jordan McFarlen

By The Sea

O, simple beauty and satisfaction;
In their wildest dreams,
Their love had happened.

They sat together, white hair and withered hands,
And waved goodbye to me
From the porch of their cottage by the sea.

Jordan McFarlen

The King’s Blessing

I must say, my son, do not despair;
The love you lost was ne’er there.
She went with the wind, like a breath of air.

The time quickly approaches
When all will pass, the unfit and atrocious;
And come down to earth, a mighty fortress.

This end will bring a new beginning;
With joy and love surely brimming,
There will be no need for reminiscing,

I will make it so all your days ahead
Will forget you the pain you once had,
And bring to you delight that ne’er ends.

And though you’ll turn your back on me,
Not once or twice but more than three;
I will fight for you—eternally.

I love you dearly, my son;
The battles before you surely will be won;
All the days you live under the sun,
And all the days yet to come.

Jordan McFarlen

Killing Dreams

Every night he would close his eyes and imagine;
From the moment he came to this earth,
He lived with these dreams of what could happen;
And year after year they came to fruition,
Until the night the Dreamer’s dreams collided.
He woke up in a cold sweat and tried to fight it,
But his dreams were killing each other,
And there was nothing he could do to stop them.

Night after night, year after year, the dreams would meet;
Killing each other while the Dreamer tried to sleep.
No longer did he think of what the future could hold;
Instead, he lay awake at night growing cold.
Then, one evening, he laid his head down to rest;
The night before, the final dream had died in vain,
So he fell asleep to the rhythmic beating in his chest.
The dreams didn’t come that night, or ever again.

Jordan McFarlen

Instagrandparents

We spent every waking moment looking down;
I heard the world around us was beautiful, but I wouldn’t know now.
We didn’t use our eyes for anything much more than a glow;
Now, we’re bent forward from staring at our phones—
When did we become these crooked-necked old folks?

Surely as we were squinting at pictures of places
We did not, and never will, see for ourselves.
I would tell you stories of my travels, but I left those books shelved.
I considered going outside, but wasn’t it always too hot?
I would have rather sat alone, scrolling through a feed of strangers’ thoughts.

You know, it’s blurry now, but I think
I remember seeing the most beautiful sunset—
If my memory serves me as right, that is, but most of the time it isn’t.
I’m sure there’s a picture somewhere if only I could find it.
Were our fingers always this curved, and our thumbs this arthritic?

The three of you seem quite discontent,
Isn’t that, however, how the majority of our lives were spent?
We were liked by many, but known by few—
Weren’t we only doing what we were supposed to do?
To fit in, you know? To make our friends jealous, to put on a show.

Why it’s all we’ve ever known.
As I think of it now, did we really need another post?
Innumerable images of food we never tasted;
Pictures upon pictures of people half-naked;
We’re at the end of our lives and only now do we realize our lives were wasted.

Jordan McFarlen

Weeping Willow

The simplest of loves and freedom
Created moments in their forever,
As wild hearts wandered together.

Tender-footed, they crossed the river,
Planting willow’s seed as
The birds, above all, flittered.

Bless’d beauty remained;
All the more reverent,
As the clouds cascaded gray.

Where the suns did fall,
They chased their days;
Until last light refused to stay.

Their lot in life still remains,
Weeping ‘pon the river’s banks;
Sympathizing with her name’s sake.

Jordan McFarlen

Oh, Wanderer

Your passion will fade; it’s imminent,
And your attitude is simply arrogant.
Oh, Wanderer, your pain is so evident.

I would hate to know the real me;
You must wallow about in self-pity.
Oh, Wanderer, you must get lonely.

Rolling over to find no one there,
You think your life is better? It doesn’t even compare.
Oh, Wanderer, you live a life of desperate despair.

Jordan McFarlen

Too Late

When the stars appear
As the sun sets,
There’s no sense
In a good night’s rest.
Soon, it will be too late.
Before you know it
The sun will rise again,
And with it, the day
Of your great escape.

Jordan McFarlen

Midnight Spirit

When my ears hear the call
And my eyes settle on wings above,
The Raven flees the volary of my mind.
Golden Eagle, Holy Dove enter in its place.
All is right, all is well—free, free, free
From the Flames of hell.
But idle distraction takes me away,
And I leave open the door of my cerebral aviary.

My ears hear the beating of wings familiar.
I come to my senses and sprint for the entry,
But she’s already through the gate
She’s stolen the key; I’m too late.
She’s stronger now, also more cunning—
Not to mention, all the more stunning.
There’s a flash of white, then I realize
Day has turned into night—something, something isn’t right.

All I remembered was changing;
Her beauty was already fading.
Pitter patter, tremble tremble—
This isn’t her, it’s the devil.
My heart is racing, my hands are shaking
The wings of the bird before me flap violently;
A crackle and croak, Satan appears amid a sultry smoke.
He had taken a Raven’s form, this entire time it wasn’t her.

Now, we’re face to face and eye to eye—
He’s crooked, ugly, and no longer disguised.
A snarling smirk emerges from dry lips;
Every aspect of his being is burnt to the crisp.
He reaches out his hand to my face;
I want to run, but I am frozen in place.
Then the silence is broken by a sound from above.
A whirring and cooing, the melody of a single Dove.

The devil’s demeanor then did break;
He cringed and crumbled into a snake—
His primitive and putrid Garden state.
He stood his ground as much as a legless fiend could.
But the Holy Dove my shoulder now bore
Continued its coo, a battle cry of spiritual war.
In the distance, a scream pierced the night.
Calvary’s call, the Golden Eagle was in flight.

I saw its approach, over the trees;
His golden wings gleaming and gliding with ease.
The serpent gave up its stance and slithered away,
But the Eagle swiftly landed with talons unsheathed,
He crushed the serpent’s head beneath His feet.
At that moment, day broke through the night and the Sun rose
To His rightful place. While Eagle and Dove took roost
In the trees, my mind and soul calmed—I could finally breathe.

Jordan McFarlen