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February 12, 1997 – June 17, 2020
up! Up! UP!
up from the slime where we were born
on through the years in varied form
time and chance their will to work
on and on our past to shirk
on we grow through countless ages
leaving behind forgotten pages
we come, we go, we fall, we grow
willy-nilly, we cannot know
up from the mire and through the goo
up through the fin and fur and shoe
up through the gases and solids and carbon
up to the time we choose to put garb on
until today our journey’s run
we rest here basking in the sun
faces aglow and eyes alight
with nothing left to give a fright
and still we grow and change and whirl
and all about we change our world
and we and ours we search and scan
and proclaim as best this beast called man
we have our thoughts we know our mind
we're far improved on what's left behind
though kin-beast dwell this world we share
yet we stand here and they crouch there
the chasm between us can't be surmounted
and how we got here can't be accounted
but here we are and here we’ll stay
and since we're here it's as we say
but one conundrum yet remains
after all this time, how do our brains
wrap around a thought and build
until all opposing thoughts are killed
and another, more troubling still,
how do our minds conceive a will
develop ideals, either right or wrong,
or write a word, or sing a song
if it's true that from the beasts I differ,
(or from that distant green conifer)
by thoughts that course inside my head
how am I here, why aren't I dead
for in a realm derived by chance
moral thought bears not a glance
for all is wrong and all is right
whether love or hate or talk or fight
the very morals I possess
deny the past that many guess
and if I ponder good or bad
by that thought the dream's been had
if a fish had lungs but had no air
he couldn't breathe, he wouldn't dare
thus if some deed begins my cryin'
it must truly be by some design
my righteous mind cannot remain
where time and chance have their domain
there'd be no use, it'd all be madness
my life, my joy, and all my sadness
I can't express philosophic joy
and not remain my Creator's boy
if I can think and say and feel
I must bear on me the stamp and seal
of He who is and stands alone
before the world and all its stone
it can’t be aught as He has made it
for by its thought my mind betrayed it
“...the fool says in his heart
‘There is no God!’....” “for
since the creation of the world
God’s invisible qualities...
...have been clearly seen,
being understood from what has been made”
I was reading tonight (February 12, 1997) from
"Whatever Happened to the Human Race?"
by Francis A. Schaeffer and C. Everett Koop
and felt that I should write this.
Regarding the fish/lungs/air thing:
If a fish had lungs but had no air
would that be a step up or down?
F.A.S. and C.E.K. make the point,
I appreciated it and put it here.
After Posting “up! Up! UP!” on Facebook
February 21, 2014
Reader - "Terrible poetry, but acceptable theology. But I still say that it's not necessary to believe in a 6 day creation as we understand days to praise the Creator for the wonderful universe He created."
Writer - "Terrible poetry? Perhaps, but I like it. Acceptable theology? No, but I'm not trying to be merely acceptable in my theology, I'm trying to be right. No arrogance is intended, I'm only saying that if I'm going to believe in God I want to do it to the best of my ability. Necessary to believe in six days of creation to praise the Creator? No, even the mountains will praise Him and they believe nothing. Necessary to believe in six days of creation to show that one takes God at His word? Yes, because if I start to doubt what God says about creation why should I believe Him about salvation?"
Writer - "Also, in this poem I wasn't only trying to say only that six day creation was theologically correct but that it is an inescapable truth. Once we start to ponder our origin we've already proven that we are created. Once we are created the need for countless ages disappears."
Reader - "Just as your poetry is not a novel or an essay, so not all parts of the Bible are straight narrative. Most Biblical scholars recognize the literary aspect of the beginning of Genesis as not straight narrative."
Writer - "Just as my poem states truth, despite its not being a novel or an essay, so the parts of the Bible that are not novel or essay also speak truth. Whether something is narrative or not is not an indicator of its ability to tell truth - otherwise every love song ever written says nothing and no hymn we sing in church has any meaning."
Reader - "No more comments."
up! Up! UP!
A poem by Peter Rhebergen
Each New Day A Miracle
Download all poems on this website
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