The Parable of the Old Man and the Young

So Abram rose, and clave the wood, and went,
And took the fire with him, and a knife.
And as they sojourned both of them together,
Isaac the first-born spake and said, My Father,
Behold the preparations, fire and iron,
But where the lamb for this burnt-offering?
Then Abram bound the youth with belts and strops,
And builded parapets and trenches there,
And stretched forth the knife to slay his son.
When lo! an angel called him out of heaven,
Saying, Lay not thy hand upon the lad,
Neither do anything to him. Behold,
A ram, caught in a thicket by its horns;
Offer the Ram of Pride instead of him.
But the old man would not so, but slew his son,
And half the seed of Europe, one by one.

Wilfred Owens ~ WWI British Poet

Girl on a Bed

A clear and shining Jewel
on the petal of a pure peach-colored flower,
drifting precariously on an uncertain stream
above the sparkling ripples
that carry her courageously to unknown ends -
She loves me...

The depth below is scary though.
One slip and she could fall under,
lost, beyond my reach forever,
leaving an empty petal,
drifting down the stream alone -
She loves me not...

A. J. M.