I am dust

by Ken Pullen

This poem composed the early morning hours of Saturday, August 3rd, 2019

Scripture appears in Italics and is from the English Standard Version

Simon says (said)

“I am a rock, I am an island”

All relative

to Adam

I am dust

now living

only

by the will

way

God the Father

breathes life into me

I exhale uncounted

counting my blessings

heartbeats

daily

I am dust

yet

from mercy

shed blood

resurrection

no more rejection

submitting

believing

only

grace

God’s grace alone

no rock

no island

yes, dust

living

animated dust nonetheless

only made more

from the Light

the Life

the Way

predestined all from mercy

merciful Father

merciful Son

merciful Spirit

Blessed be the God and Father

of our Lord Jesus Christ,

who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places,

even as he chose us in him

before the foundation of the world,

that we should be holy and blameless before him

In love he predestined us

for adoption to himself as sons

through Jesus Christ,

according to the purpose of his will,

to the praise of his glorious grace,

with which

he has blessed us

in the Beloved.

In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses,

according

to

the

riches

of his grace,

which

he lavished upon us, in all wisdom and insight

making known to us the mystery of his will,

according to his purpose,

which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time,

to unite

all things

in him,

things

in heaven

and

things on earth

In him we have obtained an inheritance,

having been predestined according to the purpose of him who works all things

according to the counsel of his will,

so

that

we

who

were the first to hope in Christ might be to the praise of his glory.

In him you also,

when you heard the word of truth,

the gospel of your salvation,

and believed in him,

were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit,

who is the guarantee of our inheritance

until

we

acquire

possession of it,

to

the

praise

of his glory

a winter’s night

in a deep and dark December

I was alone

in my room

gazing into my life

as it had been

was

no streets below

yet

yes

there was something fallen during the silent shroud of snow

no rock

no island

just dust

about to turn to rust

corroded inside

without

the knowledge

the way

taken all the wrong paths

along

writing

singing

the same old song

like some broken soul

pushing quarters into play A19

again

again

again

again

until everyone becomes numb to the sound

all lost

not desiring to be found

you get the picture

askew

in need of a good cleaning

some holes in the canvas

stains covering the garment

from the Evil One’s tit

I was in need of weaning

all men not in the Light

are rocks inside

or wherever they go to hide

yet among so many vast swirling seas

there are no islands

everything touched

knitted together

threads weaving

woven

spinning

looming of this world

every one

every

one

no islands to be found

only dust

only dust

only seas of walking

talking

scurrying

hurrying

masses of moving dust

oh, have I said

I am

dust

I am but

dust

all relative to Adam

fallen

only to rise

one winter’s night deep and dark

it wasn’t really December

as I remember

see

sin

still

always present

until perfect perfection coming

nay December

I ought not lie

it was February

but let us not tarry

like so many Tom’s, Dick’s and Harry’s appear to do

I am dust

ventured down the stairs

into the darkened room

dust atop the thick leather-bound book pulled from the shelf

thickness of dust upon the pages

this book neglected

reason why this soul so infected

pierced

sin known

detected

taking a respective

perspective

detection

of this lifelong infection

killing me for eternity

one winter’s night

now we know it wasn’t December

remember

the foundations of your youth

built upon His Word

took the book in silence

sleeping in the house so late into this winter’s night

silent falling snow

could not compare to the sight

of

the

shroud upon my heart and spirit

predestined

from His mercy

I am dust

all is dust

lost

until claimed and found

of sound

renewed

transformed

reborn

have you ever crept silently in your house during a long winter’s night

having not held, opened The Book for years

the tears

like moisture trying to enter Dry Valleys

Antarctica

where the high mountains block

any sight of moisture

driest place on earth

let alone tears to fall

weeping is in order for soul and spirit keeping

cleansed

aware

among so much dry

dead

lifeless

air

I give thanks every breath

knitted dust

that I am

sat quietly desiring

after creeping

praying

first time in more than decades

asking

believing

then the Lord showing

dry eyes led

Luke 15:11

more here happening than reading

finally knowing

life changing

never to be the same

finally

weeping

no more creeping

thankfulness

oh joyous knitted clump of dust I am!

…it is not

as though

the word of God has failed

For not all who are descended from Israel belong to Israel,

and not all are children of Abraham

because they are his offspring,

but

“Through Isaac shall your offspring be named.”

This means that it is not the children of the flesh who are the children of God,

but the children of the promise are counted as offspring

For

this

is

what

the

promise

said:

“About this time next year I will return, and Sarah shall have a son.” And not only so,

but also

when Rebekah had conceived children by one man, our forefather Isaac, though

they were not yet born

and had done nothing either good or bad—

in order that God’s purpose of election might continue,

not because of works

but because of him who calls— she was told, “The older will serve the younger.”

As it is written, “Jacob I loved, but Esau I hated.”

What shall we say then?

Is there injustice on God’s part?

By no means!

For he says to Moses, “I will have mercy on whom I have mercy,

and

I will have compassion on whom I have compassion.”

So

then

it depends not on human will or exertion,

but on God,

who has mercy

For the Scripture says to Pharaoh,

“For this very purpose I have raised you up, that I might show my power in you, and that my name might be proclaimed in all the earth.”

So then he has mercy on whomever he wills,

and

he hardens whomever he wills

You will say to me then,

“Why does he still find fault? For who can resist his will?”

But who are you, O man, to answer back to God?

Will what is molded say to its molder, “Why have you made me like this?”

Has the potter no right over the clay,

to

make

out

of

the

same

lump

one vessel for honorable use and another for dishonorable use?

What if God,

desiring to show his wrath and to make known his power,

has endured with much patience vessels of wrath prepared for destruction,

in order

to make known

the riches of his glory

for vessels of mercy,

which he has prepared beforehand for glory—

even us

whom he has called,

not from the Jews only

but also from the Gentiles?

Merciful God

chosen of Him

to receive His free gift of grace

God’s gift freely given

certainly nothing ever worthy to be earned

let this living dust see, listen, discern, learn

God chose me, His will be done

as I turned, looked, took into me His Son, Jesus the Lord

His will be done

not of my own doing, surely

for if left on my own I would not come

only grace

only grace

only grace

faith

dropping the nets

leaving the boat

to follow

faithfully

at the feet of the Rabbi, Master, Lord, Saviour Jesus

learn now to be a disciple

in my lasting, deepening, growing joyous faith

oh, do not imagine nothing but bliss in this

for now the real begins upon acknowledging one’s sin

knowing

confessing

repenting

the quiver filled endlessly

fiery darts come desending

unending

’till the end of this

the opening to come

entering

where no fiery darts

no dust accumulates

no more senseless

endless

misdirected

paganism undetected

yet

their

words about

fate

this, that, every other thing

empty words

filled with lies

filling the ears and minds like packing every cotton ball and Styrofoam peanut on earth

into every head

so misled

the walking dead

I am dust

selected

known to the Father

now on His pathway

His Word

His Son

a lamp unto my feet

one step

one breath

one heartbeat

closer to heaven

rejoicing

praising

thankful

dust

am I

cold rock heart no more

an island broken

rebuilt by the hands of God

the Potter, the Shepherd

to shape me by His word

I freely obey and serve

submit

yeh, dust I be

yet I will live daily

thinking on my breaths

my one step upon another on this illuminated path by Thy living Word

of Thee!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scripture used:

Ephesians 1:3-14 — English Standard Version

Romans 9:6-24 — English Standard Version