Daily Independent (Ashland, KY)


April 4, 2014

04/04/2014 — Regional poetry

ASHLAND — In A Different Light

In a different light

I see things I’ve never seen before.

In a different light

I catch a glimpse of what I’m living for.

In a different light where there’s no night.

Where even the blind can regain their sight

In a different light through Jesus Christ

I’ll see forevermore.

I now see things in a different light

Since Jesus saved my soul.

I can see the difference He has brought

Since He made me whole

Now when days are dark and dreary

The sun is shining bright

Cause now that I serve Jesus

I see things in a different light.

You’ll see things in a different light

If you let Jesus in your heart.

He will change your life completely

And from you He’ll never part.

Then when your life down here is over

And your work on earth is done

You’ll not only see the sights of Heaven

But through the light coming from the Son.

John F. Enyart

and Donald R. Nelson

The Moon,

My Shadow and Me

The moon, my shadow and myself make three.

As we walk together in the same company.

At the nighttime we go out as the friends that we are,

Then Sometimes we are joined by the fireflies and a star.

I run and I jump and my shadow is so much fun and a delight,

He follows and represents my every move,

Under the moons spotlight.

But then sometimes the moon will disappear inside a cloud,

Then my shadow will runaway, to where I am not allowed.

So then I walk all by myself as now there in only me,

But then a few minutes ago, I was once in a group of three.

When I walk inside my house the moon will wait outside,

Then my shadow will disappear as he has went to hide.

I am all by myself when I am inside my own home,

That is when I am scared and vulnerable as then,

I am all alone.

When I am lonely I go outside to be joined by my friends,

Where the moon and my shadow always attends.

The nighttime we enjoy so we go out together every night,

Where we laugh and we live that time is our delight.

Then early in the morning with the coming of the rising son,

There is no longer us three, it is now only me, one.

Randy L. McClave

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