Feathers The weight of the world is a feather in the hand of its maker. It does not burden, break, or bury the one who reigns outside of Time and Space's domain. Our behemoths are merely single barbs attached to that weightless shaft that flutters like the forest's souvenirs given to a child, fallen from the wings of a jay. In his hand our juggernauts are not threats but specimen. His palm is large enough to hold worry ad infinitum. Push the crushing fear off your chest and rest, knowing that it's but a harmless feather fluttering in your father's hand. Justin Farley
The kindle version of my chapbook, “A Voice in the Wilderness”, is currently free on Amazon through Sunday. I would truly appreciate you leaving a rating and/or review 😊 You can find it at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08JHC5Z8N/⠀
Light Wielder Crystals hang from the heavenly chandelier on the city upon the hill. Catching light and doing for the eyes what wind chimes do for the ears. A rustling. An awakening of an ancient force that remembers, that yearns with an unquenchable thirst for transcendence for totality for unity for eternity. Crystals catch the sun's light, act like mirrors with the power of those at the Pharos lighthouse, and reflect it to the ends of the earth. Never giving birth to work by its own power, only transmitting a greater light whose flame has burned indefatigable to the chagrin of the night. Again. A rustling. An awakening of an ancient force that remembers, that yearns with an unquenchable thirst for transcendence for totality for unity for eternity. I count hundreds thousands millions of crystals dangling like diamonds, gleaming beneath the sun. Dazzling like the thread of the spider's web she's spun catching the nightmares of the world like colossal dream catchers, waking up those who've fallen asleep, and giving sight to a world walking in darkness. Justin Farley
An Outstretched Hand Grace waits patiently for everyone like Charon beside the River Styx. But Grace requires no coinage for sin's payment has been nixed. The sound of a boulder's rumble, louder to the soul than deafening thunder, is the receipt for the cost of transgression, paid in full. It leaves even angels still in wonder at the depth of love that bears such a brutal toll. Grace holds her breath with an outstretched hand, the pinnacle choice of life for every man. Grace's hand is still open to you. Will you take it? Justin Farley
Who is this man
who hangs like fruit from a tree
baking beneath the sun
shrunken, shriveled like a prune,
writhing in misery?
Who is this man
whose flesh is being used like lumber –
cold, iron nails piercing hands and feet,
under the weight of the world,
under the weight of a pounding hammer?
Who is this man
who forgives while being crushed by their sin,
who turns the other cheek
while being jeered and spat at
time and time again?
Who is this man
who cries out, “My God, my God,
why have you forsaken me”,
who breathes his last breath
and swings motionless from a tree?
Who is this man
whose death shakes the earth at her core,
who brings the roars of thunder,
and tore the veil of the Temple,
open for all forevermore?
And who is this man
who Death couldn’t hold,
older than the dawn of time,
grander than the universe itself,
who creates anew, who constantly unfolds?
He is Jesus of Nazareth.
He is the Christ.
He is the Word made flesh.
He is the Light that conquers the darkness.
He is the inspirational force of creation.
He is the sound blaring in the silence.
He is Deus Homo.
Hello, everyone! I have recently published my first chapbook of Christian poems titled “A Voice in the Wilderness – A Chapbook of Poems about God”. This has been developed and polished over the past six months or so. I am happy with the final product and hope you find encouragement in the poems but also a validation that the spiritual life is not all sunshine and rainbows. We all struggle. We all have periods of questions and/or doubt. But it is the yearning that keeps us coming back for more and allows us to experience joy.
You can purchase either on Amazon or on my own bookstore (it is cheaper and has free shipping on my store) and is available on the Kindle and in paperback.
Amazon: Kindle Paperback
Inkspiration Books (my bookstore): Paperback
Thank you for your support!
Happiness is Fleeting If happiness is your goal you'll never be whole. Always be rolling on a raging river of emotion completely out of control. For happiness is fleeting, receding like the waters on a creek bank after a storm, never even warned that the moment one desire is fulfilled a new one is born. Seek to make contentment your aim. For it's constant through the winds of change; its heat still warms the soul though the fire's flame waxes and wanes. For contentment accepts life as it is. Realizes there's as much to be grateful for in pain as in bliss. Discontentment always follows happiness. Justin Farley
Metamorphosis A Poem About Butterflies and God's Grace Inching along the earth crunching, munching on misfortune until pain wrapped itself like a cocoon - a castle outside the rooms of a hardened heart. Drowning, surely dying in the dark. Only to emerge from the womb reborn from a tomb of self-inflicted wounds transformed by the Divine spark. With wings of vibrant color carrying the evidence of change arrayed like a roadmap dotted with places been and places going. Flapping with the wings of grace embraced by the breeze of blessing a chrysalis replaced, made anew by the Spirit's pressing. Justin Farley
They Say... They say follow your heart, but I'm thoroughly convinced mine doesn't know where the hell it's going. They say the heart wants what the heart wants. Mine wants to pull down the shades and get rip-roaring drunk. They say love yourself. I think if I love myself any more I'm going to join Narcissus at the bottom of that damn pool. They say put yourself first, but I'm so far in the lead that there's no one left for me to pass. But He says I'm broken beyond belief, that my heart is deceptive, and can't be trusted. He says that only fools follow the desires of the heart because they lead to bottomless pits, never satisfied. He says quit staring at yourself in that mirror, that my hope isn't found in self love, it's in the depth of His love. He says the first shall be last and to love my neighbor as myself, to help pick up the wounded runners rather than worry about what place I finish in. I love my heart, which is why it's so painful to admit that His Word sounds like truth, and culture sounds like childish chatter. Justin Farley
Planting is a Prayer Planting is a prayer. If you do it right. If you take delight in the present but keep future possibility in sight. For God doesn't need words. With each heart beat you lay at his feet a million complaints, hopes, fears, doubts, joys, and defeats. A creator knows its creation better than the creation itself. Your ink filled his pen. He outlines your story, your end before it evens begins but allows you freewill over the final edits. Planting is a prayer. If you do it right. If you're aware you've been given oversight in a chapter of a story that's been continually expanding since the Word first spoke to the void: "Let there be light". Let you delight in the blessing you've been given - partial control over the story of life. Justin Farley
Conversion A Poem About the Love and Grace of God I began divided. Quite selfish with a heart hungry for evil yet filled with a deep longing brewing below the surface that never seemed fulfilled by anything other than you. So what was I to do - in love with myself and my selfish desires but realizing more each day my need for you? I opened my ears to your voice but kept my heart safely distant. You told me to follow you. And I obeyed... at a snail's pace, slowly inching my way towards your grace. The closer I came the louder my name reverberated from your lips. Though the louder too were my selfish longings. Lust ran high in the dry, dusty desert of restraint and tried to pull me back into the slavery of gratification. I gave in time and time again but refused to allow my sin to convince me to hide in shame from you. For at the core of my being, I knew you held something true - an answer to a question about the essence of life itself that couldn't be answered along any other path but yours. So I continued hauling my heavy shell behind me and sluggishly crawled onward, but the way forward didn't get any easier. I only found myself more divided, fragmented into forces fighting within myself. My head became a bed for commotion, tossing me to and fro like the waves of the ocean. The inner struggle only made me more aware of the seriousness of my situation: I had a head full of God and a heart unwavering it its insistence upon serving itself. It was daunting, haunting me in its clutches and causing me to lose sleep like a nightmare stuck on repeat, waking me up in the night to the harsh realities of life. How was I to serve two masters and attend to both of their matters? My ego wasn't lulled to sleep nor cowered to the call for its destruction. But raged and rattled the cage your spirit had created for it. I trusted that your grace was vaster than all the stars shinning forth forgiveness in the dark to the farthest corners of the universe; surely my sin was no match for your goodness. I resolved to stop worrying so much about "do nots" that I never seemed capable of obeying and to focus on following through on the "dos" I was perfectly capable of undertaking. And there your spirit freed a seemingly unsavable prisoner from the bondage of self and turned me towards the Divine. For you kept me so busy doing your will that I forgot about mine. Justin Farley