Rushing Toward Me

I was falling very quickly.  Ground rushed toward my face.
Wished, I, for help.  Yet I called not for God's own grace.
I felt that there was naught in me to warrant such demands.
God would do what God would do.  I'd not mess up His plans.

I thought of all things I had felt, and heard, and known, and seen,
The mountains, birds, plants, animals, rocks, lakes and streams.
Each had brought me comfort.  Such beauty ever does.
One might ask me, "Was it worth it?" I'd look, and say it was.

It was worth my pains, my agonies, my deepest wounds, my scars.
It was worth my wretchedness at gazing helpless at bright stars.
It was worth the sore soul-changing that simply had to be.
It was worth the anguish of years-poison burning out of me.

You, dearest Reader, may wonder just what IT was.
Was what worth it?  Why must I write "Because..."?
Why would I go through what I have and suffer very sore?
Twas a very simple reason- I wished to touch one more.

If one more heart of one more soul of one more child of God
Could benefit from words of one who oft thinks himself odd,
Then even if that heart never feels the words I wrote,
I'd write them.  I'd hurt far more, not scribbling a note.

I would pray and I would hope and I would hope and I would pray
That some small word of mine might take the night and make it day.
That night-turned-day would shed its light on heart that does not feel,
And maybe, just maybe, that one heart could start, at last, to heal.

The ground is rushing toward me.  Now what do I do?
Will this bit of rhyme ever find its way to you?
I feel at last my wanting, from whence my anguish stems.
I cry out to my Father God, "I want to stay, for them!"

An instant of black.  I awake, sun shining through window.
I yet live, I yet breathe.  Yes, tis grace, I know.
God wants me to live.  To live by Him alone.
From dark to light, to day from night... I've learned, and I have grown.

Adam Scott Campbell

Your Worth

My candle burns so brightly.  It keeps the dark at bay.
While in my heart I feel the start of yet another day.
Each adversary prowls along the edge of my small light.
I prepare me now.  There soon begins a fight.

My sword arm wields no weapon.  There's no shield in my hand.
Though I am feeling stronger.  This battle was long planned!
The weapon of testimony, my boundless certainty,
Will carry this fight forward.  Tis my faith that protects me.

I know the Rock I stand on.  How oft I've turned aside,
When some insidious whispering murmured, "But you've tried..."
While such is good, and needed, tis not near enough.
I knew then, I know now, I must still try when things get rough.

You, O Reader, hoping for hope, while the dark grows bleak,
You, too, can build on the Rock you may not know you seek.
When so much light you gather that you cannot help but share,
Of danger and of grace you find yourself very aware.

I am no well-versed pastor.  I am no preacher great.
But I know light and dark.  In me each claims a stake.
I know that you, O Reader, are also wanted dear.
For you, dark foes gather.  For you, angels shed tear.

I do not speak these heavy words for to make you afraid.
I'm urging you to get on God's path.  Once you're on, to stay.
I've gotten off and stayed off, for weeks and months so long.
I knew, yet refused to know. that I was going wrong.

Your God is your own Father.  He aches to hold you close,
To protect you from the darkness when each dark thing He knows.
You're worth more than you realize.  You are why this battle's fought.
Speak to your Father God.  You'll find the light for which you've sought.

Adam Scott Campbell

As Thou Wilt

I would stand in the midst, a squadron on one side,

Another on another, my hands and feet all tied.

I would have peace, knowing I gave another shot,

And a second and a third, for all for which I've fought.

My last thoughts would be of precious souls I've known,

Of words said and felt.  Of sacred compassion shown.

My last prayer would be like those uttered in past.

I'd beg for those still hurting, that God would heal them fast.

All the wounds, scars, and blemishes that my spirit shows

I'd plead that God would heal me, as my final moment flows.

Hands that have done both good and evil- such tied hands, mine-

Itch to show a final bit of kindness, to give some parting sign.

What can I give to make one last mark on this earth?

How can I help someone, anyone, learn their eternal worth?

Where dare I place my bets, to hope some pure soul rise?

Only by example, some small, inner voice cries.

If you who read these words care to take them to your core,

I dare to think them, that you may find your life is more.

If life means anything, or might mean something, to you,

Then do as I do now, when my life is done and through.

I kneel, as death hurls itself at my mortal frame.

I speak, and give voice to a sacred Name.

Tis the name of the God who gave me life,

Though oft I've wished to end it, by flame, or fume, or knife.

I then speak three words that sum up all I feel

After what I've done to try to help each wound heal.

Bullets and intentions, now buried to the hilt.

To my God, while they bury, "As thou wilt."

Mirror, Mirror On The Way

Mirror, Mirror On The Wall,
Does balm exist for us, at all?
Will we find Elixir's call
Waits to help us stand tall?
Shall mended hearts and souls
Make paths to all our goals?
Shall said balm repair each hole
When every one has played a role?
Mirror, Mirror On The Way.
We pass you, hopeful, today.
Though joyed the sight, we can't stay.
Our destiny calls for no delay.
Wish us well, that God bless our road.
We've shouldered well our carried load.
We've ever "survived"- we change our mode.
Of eternal life we sing an ode.
Mirror, Mirror On The Son
Lets us see just what's been done.
We've crawled, and walked, and jogged, and run,
It's not been easy, nor always fun,
But knowing now just who we are-
God's own children, come so far-
It seems that just to touch one star...
We know we are more than this.  We are.
We will touch each one- and more.
We will find the worth cradled in our core.
We'll find the Light we hold in store.
We seek Heaven, and find an open door.
We'll walk through, and know we belong.
Gone every pain.  Healed every wrong.
Joy overflowed makes easy our song.
Struggle now gone has made us strong.

Adam Scott Campbell

Heaven Knows We Need It

who touched you?
who reached inside you? or
stumbled,
beat up and
bruised and
broken
to find themselves on the threshold of your heart-castle,
hurting for what they didn't have inside?
who did not belong anywhere near
your sanctuary?
who did you let in anyway, feeling
that if you didn't,
they would be lost forever, not understanding
their own worth
their own talents
their own worthy dream?
who has crossed your way, needing human touch
in a world getting colder, and
more hardened, and
less concerned with the sanctity of human life
than with the desire to be free?
what did you find sitting in your sanctuary
after being gone for so long?
was it a heart other than your own,
waiting for you,
hoping for you,
hurting for you
dying but still breathing
for you?
do you know your purpose
here on earth?
do you understand how vital you are
to me
to God
to every soul you come across
on your earthly journey?
I need you
yes, you, you who read this
to reach out
to someone
to anyone
who has a heart that beats.
they hurt
and have hurt
for so long that they may not know how hurt they are.
help them to know that you know hurt, too.
help them to know that they are not alone
in a world of over seven billion people,
help them to know that hurt doesn't hurt
anywhere near as much when someone cares.
let them know you care.
make your part of the world
a little warmer
heaven knows we need it