Forty Days
Forty days have passed into the Fall—saying I have trudged the wilderness and died.
Have I learned to look to God? Stays—what holds he in heaven, and what he reveals Weighs.
What tell Bible stories?—myself futility finding—where lies the mother lode?
Events in the Garden say free will means not the setting of the standard of good and bad.
Rebekah waters the stranger’s ten camels—freely yet unaware of the stranger’s prayer.
Laban runs to the stranger who is lavishing gold—by greed or by heaven to heed?
Rebekah has overnight to contemplate marriage—a ten-days wait not okay to the stranger.
How hard did she think? “Yes, I will go,” formulating a self-forming action from choice?
My P.E. coach once gave me a D—was it a comment on my athletic ability?
Do I wrestle like a joke? Fall asleep in afternoons? Maybe a nugget will fall as Yahweh laughs.
I’m in my second forty-days cell—rule under the king of pride despising the successor.
My third paper hangs separately—still am I a steward of sacred secrets of the Most High.
Papers One and Two hang answered in magnificence—
What of Paper Three?
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