I Have Lost The Plot Poem by James Tipp

I have lost the plot, become a victim
To long in the kitchen I am burnt out
Standing in the hallowed place of emptiness
I wonder where it all went wrong, disappeared
The joy of knowing being certain, vanished
Knowledge, understanding, age, replace black
With reams of grey and very little white.
He knew the secret, called their bluff
He who is sinless cast the first stone
The elders left first, unconvinced of their cause.
So now thirty years on from that fresh white collar
You sit in the night, sleepless, pondering
What else can drive a person if not love.
If God is love and love is the source of power
The source of grace, truth, and mercy, the God gifts
How else can you live your life, what other truth,
Can match the costly truth of being called to love
But the results seem fragile and atom sized
Like panning for gold in a worn out creek.
With nothing else to offer the world I continue
To be the messenger of the risen living one
Amongst the reams of grey, in the realms of uncertainty.