Minotaur of Conscience

Minotaur of Conscience by Gregg Hake

Minotaur of conscience,
Stampeding through the maze;
Looking for the answer,
He eats the young and prays.

Troubled by the conflict
Of knots he can’t unwind;
His coats of skin torment him
And keep his soul confined.

“Release me from this prison!”
He cries out to his God;
Not asking but demanding,
His beastly instincts flawed.

For God is not a genie,
Summonsed to serve on earth;
He is bid by giving
A womb for heaven’s birth.

A Child Again

A Child Again by Gregg Hake

O’ to be a child again-
Without the coats of fear and sin,
By words not spoken.

Free to run and leap and play
Without the weight of yesterday.

O’ to be a child again-
Undaunted by the Christ within,
My heart ne’er broken.

What’s that you say, young man, my son?
‘Slow down, speak up, you’ve just begun.’

Though I, a man, am far from youth,
I’m ne’er afraid to hear the truth!

The Summer of my Years

As I approach the summer of my years
The hoary voice of winter howls my name.
“What was and is, anon shall be at hand—
‘Tis time ye relent; good cannot prevail!
Men of stature greater than thee have tried
And failed. Corrupted men shall forever
Herd men less so, who trusting that their gods
Will set them free happily serve their time.
Revolution turns the soil but the weeds
That choke men’s hearts shall once again emerge.”
Who am I to face this chilling mistral,
To dare to dream of not just one but all
Restored to former glory? No longer
Souls carrying corpses but souls set free,
Magnified in the flesh through hearts and minds
Yielded in fact and in deed to reason.
I see men of my age giving up hope,
Balancing common good with selfish gain.
I hear footsteps of those younger, stronger
Leaving their mark on time’s shifting sands—
Budding enthusiasm not yet crushed.
I feel the strained hearts of those more timeworn
Beating defiantly, marking the path
Which leads to victory. What shall I do
Standing at this crossroad ‘tween life and death?
Shall I relent to the vacuous truth?
Or shall I press on, and lean into love,
That I may be warmed by its flame, set alight
To live and love and serve until I die?

A Pure Heart

A Pure Heart, a poem by Gregg Hake

Dig down deep sweet little lamb,
For in you lies the cure.
You must prepare for the exam-
Your heart must straight be pure.
Some say you’ve come, some say not yet-
In time, we’ll surely know.
One thing’s for sure, were I to bet-
The world will fear the show.
Unless, of course, we do not wait
To enter in at the strait gate.