Editor's Note: Aaron Belz is the author of three collections of poems—Glitter Bomb (Persea), Lovely, Raspberry (Persea), and The Bird Hoverer (BlazeVOX)—and a chapbook, Plausible Worlds (Observable Books). He lives in North Carolina. If you ever have a chance to hear him read, don't miss it.

Personal Message Guidelines

Two years ago
we embarked on a journey to develop

a narrative
that could be used across

the enterprise—
both internally and externally.

The goal? To unite
Aaron Belz around a single

guiding idea, one
torch carried by a small, horrible

child whose eyes
have been gouged out by marauders.

Pushed back
by a polleny headwind he trudges

on. Uh oh, he is now
beset by droids from a future in which

shared learnings
will be key to our ongoing success.

The Real Question

The real question being
how will you address these issues
moving forward

so that at the end of the day
you're able to leverage
what you've done

versus what you either have
or haven't succeeded at,
if you will—

or whether you will or won't,
because time stays for no man.
It merely marks his footprints

as he lopes intelligently
from dune to dune looking, gazing,
via the minimal shade afforded

by an extended salute
in which the hand
becomes a fleshy awning

or hood, the gaze
a pair of Mini Maglites
glowering into dusky realms.

Ode To The Sun

"The sun's a dreaded marksman
Perched way up in the clouds.
His bolts are purest fire;
His call is never loud.

"He sizzles in the tropics
Like some ungrateful bird
Whose wings are made of fire
And name's a single word:

"Sun, when will you stop shining
So terrifyingly,
Stop shooting down those arrows
Upon your earthbound prey?"

—Aaron Belz

Copyright © 2016 by the author or Christianity Today/Books & Culture magazine.
Click here for reprint information on Books & Culture.