My pc’s unseeing eyes mesmerise
addictively I miss the point,
wordless mouths of virtual gods
allure me to the altar, then anoint;
yes, I am talking to myself…
and the message disappoints
Chasing prizes of all shapes and sizes,
I lose touch with my more noble goal,
Passion ebbs away, joy starts to fray
I am no longer awake, healthy or whole;
gathering flatterers not friends…
I gain the world but lose my soul.
On images I loiter and so exploit her,
tender respect is undone by stealth;
it’s my sin which eats me from within
and bankrupts my mind of moral wealth;
by objectifying strangers…
I become a stranger to myself.
Being oh so cool, breaking all the rules,
with the divine I lose touch and trust;
I betray my heart, monetise my art,
what starts as love descends to lust;
I compete rather than partner and…
my fine dance, it turns to dust.
If I bury my face in God’s grace,
He shows me what I really need;
I discern and learn who I am, and
the false gods from which I’m freed;
precious friendships surely come…
and I will be rich indeed
Where and with whom we spend our time, and on what we
habitually focus, has a way of shaping us.
“Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labour
on what does not satisfy?
Listen, listen to me and eat what is good, and your soul
will delight in the richest of fayre.”
Isa 55:2
Chris is emeritus professor at Middlesex University, London, specialising in leadership development. As a chartered psychologist, his recent books observe life from unique angles: 20th-century Myanmar through the eyes of a Burmese family; bible stories from the perspective of the stones present, and just published, a light-hearted collision with rural Provence. Chris lives in the UK with his wife April, and they love gathering with the extended family in France each summer.