Breaking Bread Upon My Table

Breaking bread upon my table

We face and judge our hunger

Faith not in the believing

But in the subtle conceiving

Picture a summer watermelon

Sweet pink fruit it shall be

Pouring water at my table

We face and judge our thirst

Tell me what dreams you dream

Comparisons will be made

Faith not in the compensation

But in the stable construction

Picture a tower of steel

Shining beacon it shall be

World starts in broken pieces

Just as chaos swirled before

Piecing together of faith

So slow, progressing

Occasional progress through

Personalities and paradox

What texture does the world take?

Without the faithful?

Around me days are filled with

Purpose and light, without question

Their hearts full

What pulls them out from beneath?

If it is gone?

If the oblivious dwindle

Do the informed continue?

Gene G. McLaughlin 2015