When it Starts to Rain

Waking up in the morning to another obscure day
When I look outside my window, I see nothing but dark grey.
These overtures have stained and placed in me a mood
As this gloom abounds, I fear my joy has been eschewed.

Upward I stare and strain to catch a glimpse
Or an indication that the heavens are about to mist.
Until I heard a little plunk, against my window pane
I smile softly for it won’t be long, until it starts to rain.

And down pours the rain to wash away all of my pain
And why do I feel this way, when it starts to rain?
There’s a sense of peace—
And a feeling of warmth
Amidst all of this fear
And all the things in life that I’ve missed
Doesn’t matter, when it starts to rain.

The storm moved in quickly much to my surprise
While the echoes of thunder roll as the forks of light arrive.
The water pours, as the sky storms -- with no end in sight
And I think of how this dreadful weather mirrors my turbulent life.

There’s a descent into madness, as the skies now turn black—
There’s a feeling of hopelessness knowing there’s no turning back.
While the wind it howls and batters my peace of mind
Against the backdrop of chaos, the rain will bring healing in due time.

And down pours the rain to wash away all of my pain
And why do I feel this way, when it starts to rain?
There’s a glimmer of hope
A meaning to life
When all else seems lost
And somehow life was worth the cost,
When it starts to rain.

-- Greg Butz
April 25, 2009

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Going into this poem, it had been a long, somewhat emotional day. I just sat down and typed a few words, and the rest of this poem came quite naturally. It had also been raining for the last week when I wrote this poem, so this was also a reflection of the weather and current mood outside as well as from the inside. I have another poem in my mind about the rain, but I'll write it another day. (Ah-hem, so I guess I'll save it for a "rainy day" heh heh).

A Day Without the Sun

A Day Without the Sun

On a lonely hill -
Overlooking a valley
I sit in the morning
Awaiting the sun's first light.

As winds pick up,
There’s no change in the skies
And I wonder if the sun
Can break the stranglehold of night.

The morning is quiet you see
And only the chirping of birds
Interrupt the thoughts
From Deep within me,

They cry out in alarm
As if to say:
“Let’s go back to bed,
for today the sun is dead.”

I stumble down the path
Unsure of my footing -
With No sun to guide my way
On this light abandoned ground.

There are no passerbys
Yet the air is strangely filled—
With a silent eerie buzz
Of prayers and cries rising from around.

The morning is quite dreadful today
As people scream and wail of doom from the end
They cry out in alarm as if to say,
“We cannot bear this dread; soon we’ll all be dead.”

All throughout the night
They waited through the time,
Wonder had turned to anguish
Right before their eyes.

They held their children dearly
And kissed their loved ones all goodbye,
And cherished their final moments
Until early the next morning, when the sun began to rise.
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By Greg Butz
April 24, 2009

I first began working on this poem early in March – I had just begun running in the morning (which ended almost abruptly as it had begun). I climbed up to the top of a reservoir awaiting the morning’s first rays. It took forever for the sun to rise, when a thought of this little poem / song (it was and still is a tune in my head) came to my mind. What if the sun never rose for a day? Would that change our life – and if it would, shouldn’t we make changes in our life now, and not wait until it is too late? Just a few thoughts to ponder.

The Shadows

The Shadows

Icy shivers run down my spine as I dodge to evade fleeing shadows—

These chaotic turbulences swirl about, with their dances of dark delight.

Turning on the lights, does not diminish their presence,

They flee to linger in the corners, plotting how to best reemerge.

Even light seems now dimmer, as I walk with them fully on.

Though they remain subdued, diluted in appearance

With every step I take, only casts further shadows on the walls.

Such a dark world it seems, even dark in my own life—

How can one soul become a light, to pierce this darkest of the night?

I dare to ask the questions, to peer deep into the menacing maw,

And reject their silly notions of gaining authority of my life.

But still the shadows linger, as I chase them to and fro –

From wherever they have come from, and to wherever they may go.

It is still all a mystery, from what plans that may be--

But I do declare with great weakness, depending fully on His strength

That the lord of this present age will not gain mastery over me,

For I serve the one true LORD that will rule forever in the next.

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By Greg Butz

April 24, 2009

I wrote this after arriving home from school one day, to dark shadows. They seemed to leap out at me as I arrived. I jotted down the first line and later reflected upon this occurrence. It is possible that it was just the wind and the trees from outside, but we also do fight against an enemy that is not flesh and bones. Today, I have been drained as I fight against the perceptions of others. Though my flesh may be weak, and at times I feel emotionally broken, still I know that I must press forward to become that light talked about in 2 Corinthians chapter four.

The Runner's Creed

The Runners Creed

Runners take your mark, get set and GO!
Run hard, run fast, and don’t become slow.
With each powerful stroke to realize,
That you compete solely for the prize.
Do not lose the faith or become blind
By not focusing on the finish line.

Runners your first lap is now complete!
But it’s a struggle as you continually compete,
This race doesn’t seem nearly as short
When you decided to join this grueling sport.
Endure through all this wretched pain —
Because a half-hearted stroke is a competitor’s gain.

Your lungs are on fire, as you gasp for air
Agony is mental, but you’re living on a prayer.
Despair and hope have one thing they share
It depends on how well the runner has prepared
Push your thoughts away and you will find—
That concentration will bring you clarity of mind.

Crowds leave in boredom while you continue to run –
They failed to notice that you had only just begun
Even though you’ve raced now for years
Through joys, trials, and the tears—
These distractions will not cause you to resign
For you know there is only one finish line.

Keep your eyes focused on Him who guides
Match each stroke of His, stride for stride.
When you finally cross that line,
At His predetermined time
He will say to you with a smile,
“You ran well, my wonderful child.”

--

By Greg Butz
April 2, 2009


This poem is just a reflection on the last track meet and my own experiences with running. We all know that life isn’t a sprint, it is quite a distance, but it requires us to continue to run. We race to compete and to win a prize, and as Christians our focus is supposed to be solely upon Him. So keep running runners!