The Biggest Valley
By Mark Edgemon


| Home Page | Poetry Table of Contents | Archive | Compassionate Internet Church |

The Biggest Valley
By Mark Edgemon

Avoiding one's future is ignoring one's self,
To settle into a way of life is death.
Roots can be extended, without giving over,
To the ruination of reaching out for purpose.

Comfortable chair, familiar entertainment,
Bathing the soul of the man who has given up.
His home transformed into a funeral procession;
The clock ticks slowly, the calendar changes at lightning speed.

Relax, the television beckons, take it easy,
The routine will usher you into eternity.
Whether business is done or missions completed,
The death of one's soul is death to his body.

The End

Go on to next poem by Mark Edgemon: THE BOX
Return to: The Works of Mark Edgemon