“I Write”: A Poem by John Piper 

Some travel where they’ve never been,
Some trace the paths within,
Some peer into the depths, and grope,
Some scan the skies, and hope.
They long to see,
If faint or bright.
Since I agree,
I write.

Some study, marking ev’ry page,
Some probe the ancient sage,
Some perch cross-legg’d and chants rehearse,
Some through the night converse
To understand
And seize the light.
I set my hand
To write.

Some eat at gourmet restaurants,
Some mortify their wants,
Some blitz along the Autobahn,
Some plod the marathon
To feel the zest,
Enjoy the height.
I share the quest,
And write.

Some paint, some build,
some act the play,
Some draw, some spin the clay.
Some cook, some sew, and some compose,
Some dream, and some propose,
All to create.
Ah, such delight!
I bear the trait,
And write.

Some heal, some shield, some educate,
Some sway the magistrate,
Some feed, some serve to make shalom,
Some bring the stranger home.
They seek to love.
I too invite
The cordial Dove,
And write.

Some sing, some leap, some lift their hands,
Some bow and keep commands,
Some kneel, some sway, some close their eyes,
Some lie prostrate, some rise.
And all to praise.
Is this my flight?
Oh, all my days!
I write.

And may it be that someday we,
In heaven, sinlessly,
At last may see, and understand,
And feel, and put our hand
And spirit to create, and love,
And praise. Then to the Dove,
All-powerful and pure and high,
My prayer will be: That I,
With crowning skill
And perfect sight,
Be summoned still
To write.