Soon

Soon, You say. 

“I am coming soon.”

From here it doesn’t 

look that way, 

it looks as though

we waste and languish

while You delay. 

Too soon

the innocence fades, 

too soon children

grow and pipes break

and garbage piles high. 

Too soon hearts cool,

joints swell, beauty flees,

and boards begin to rot. 

Too soon our loves are taken from us. 

Too soon death

cheats us of our joy. 

Too soon we find everything

is vanity, 

a chasing after wind, 

and still You

do not come. 

We rage against

each other, pouring

out our desperation

in destruction while

our world too soon

decays around us. 

It is all

too soon, God, 

and yet it is forever

that we wait for You. 

Forgive me

for not understanding, 

but it isn’t really fair that to

You a thousand years

is as a day while we

wait here moaning. 

I think I know

that on the other side of

the door it is soon

morning, but now I stand

here in the dark and soon

seems very 

far away.

We wait—

You give us no choice—

and watch the sun set too

quickly and the long night

begin. 

We were not made for this

silence. We were meant to hear

the quickening of footsteps

on the path, You, come

to walk with us. 

We were supposed to sit

all together at Your table,

the feast of forever 

spread wide. 

Our hearts yearn for

eternity, not this

soon and drawn-out

dying. 

Come soon. 

Please come like the sudden

burst of sun from clouds, 

like the rush of wind, 

like melting winter

snow flooding down the mountain. 

Come soon, 

and let us wait, then, 

not like the dying but like

the betrothed, 

trusting the beloved to arrive

at last and take us

to the far-off country,

the home of our true

inheritance. 

Come soon. 

We wait

for You.