Moored to Oneself

 

 

To what are we moored

In this pluralistic time

Where everything seems relative

And jelly is spine?

 

No difference, it seems,

Between sand and rock

And one can pass for the other

Like dress and frock.

 

Nothing is steadfast

And we just float around,

Same difference, some would say,

Whether up or down.

 

To each his own reality-

That’s how he sees it,

No reference point or benchmark

Informs his habit.

 

Moored to myself

Makes me feel free

And it really does not matter

If I drift aimlessly.

 

No beginning, no end,

All one continuous bend

Riding the world’s merry-go-round,

World without end.

 

No reference-point

Nothing by which to gauge,

The entire world is just a stage

And I am its sage.

 

It’s me and me alone

Accountable to only me,

And my truth is as good as anyone’s

So, set me free.

 

 

 

Nothing is absolute!

Bear this in your mind,

One man’s freedom, my friend,

Is another’s bind.

 

It’s nothing topsy-turvy

If it works for me,

I am the centre of the universe,

And I am free.

 

My beauty is my beauty,

My truth is my truth,

Thus, my values are my values

And I am my proof.

 

My reason to be here

Is my own purpose,

It has nothing to do with anyone

Hence, it is just.

 

The survival of the fittest?

Call it what you may,

This means of all there is, I succeed

While all beside me fail.

 

 

 

I am moored to me:

Distinctly myself and I

And don’t you dare try to change me;

Don’t even try.

 

And so, I present to you

The world’s dilemma,

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder

And each book its cover.

 

Thus, all things of beauty

But no distinctive beauty,

No benchmark by which a judge

Can perform his duty.

 

Many varying values

But no moral plumb line,

Morality and immorality are the same

Together combined.

 

 

 

A myriad of truths:

Yours and mine and theirs

But no truth by which to measure

What is just and fair. 

 

Different purposes

But no defining purpose

That rightly informs all of humanity

On his return to the dust.

 

From dust created He us

To dust we will return

And the sooner we understand this

The more we will learn.

 

God is the only absolute

By which all can be measured

And to ignore His divine blueprint

Is to miss life’s treasure.

 

Truth is at the top

Forming value and beauty,

Out of these emerges our purpose

That informs our duty.

 

 

 

Moored to the Rock

Though adaptive to change,

For to be moored to oneself

Is to be deranged.

 

Stewart Russell © September 17, 2025

 

Free Is Not Cheap

 

 

This is a call to distinguish

Between free and cheap

And as you read this poem

Take note of what I speak.

 

To move out stock quickly

Stores may put on sales

And the prices are so reduced

That such seldom fails.

 

The items are not cheap

But the prices now reduced,

Patrons rush to buy them up

Having become induced.

 

Cheap relates to value

Or better still, little or none,

There’s little worth in the item

And from it most patrons run.

 

Such is often given away

Since very few want to buy,

Only the poor and destitute

Would dare to give it a try.

 

An item might be expensive

But is given to another,

To that one it becomes a gift

But that’s a different matter.

 

“Cheap things are no good

And good things are not cheap”,

A caution to the buyer

That is looking for a treat.

 

In the long run it is costly

When we buy something cheap,

It seldom gets the job done

And is more “trick than treat”.

 

This is the devil’s brand

And is very easy to acquire,

At first it may appear to work

But in the long term it is fire.

 

Let me however introduce you

To a free but costly gift,

Sounds somewhat contradictory

But in a minute you’ll get my drift.

 

 

The glorious gift of salvation

Does not cost us a single cent,

It is free to the born again believer

And that is God’s intent.

 

However it cost Christ his life

His precious poured out blood,

It is he that purchased our salvation

He is the only one that could.

 

It is free to every sinner

But certainly it is not cheap

For had salvation been a cost to us

That would be infinitely steep.

 

Eternal life is offered to all

That is the value of God’s gift,

That life is hid in Christ His Son

By now you’ve gotten my drift.

 

Why buy bread that is not bread

And wine that is not wine?

Instead accept the offer of the Saviour

To come unto him and dine.

 

Free but certainly not cheap

And of eternal merit,

Guaranteed By God the Father

The Son and Holy Spirit.

 

God gave all He could

The Lord Jesus shed his blood,

Why not accept the priceless offer?

I really think you should.

 

 

For salvation is free not cheap

It cost Almighty God His all,

In Jesus Christ He gave Himself

Won’t you respond to his call?

 

Stewart Russell © August 2018