SHE.

Who.

Why.

Where.

What.

Pre positionals crowd my mind
my heart is blind I hear a note
the strumming stroke of a
hand on my face, on my heart, on the lace
of the dress. a tress
falls on the strengths that she.
eminates

She eminates beauty, She eminates love.
Eminate my love for her hand
the strand of hair falling fast
as it falls to her neck what a
time stands still and we enter in
good will, donating, receiving
compacting, ne'r deceiving.
each other.

her face, why do I trace
the lines of her fate brought us near,
love draws us clear of the shrapnel
of the failing pieces of all that well
describes the times of our lives
we die. why. Well.
It is well.

As I enter the line
to proceed past processionals
professionals mock the steel in my
eyes melt at fifty degrees
at the warmth of a touch
I fall to my knees. wash the feet
of the woman who completes me
wholeheartedly receives me
and takes my hand as I
concrete we.

Love?

Whence cometh that sweet voice
that dream within a dream of honey from the comb
like the petals of a rose just blossomed
so doth my heart for my beloved.

~ Not Shakespeare

A whisper in my ear of ears

speaks softly to my heart.

Of all hearts came and went

yours only was of worth.

Speak

Gently

Wonderful

Words of Love to my dove

and the heart that I grasp at so eagerly with my breath and

every

breath

subsequent.

Whats a dove to do with

the sound of a heart beating fast?

Whats a dove to do with

the touch of a tender kiss?

Whats a dove to do

when all else fades away and your heart feels like it's pulled into a dream with all beauty, all joy all wonderfulness. Like a hundred million balloons falling to the sky and only stooping to pick up a fated passerby and carry him to unknown heights of glory.

Whats a dove to do with Love?

In her eyes

like a hundred million sparklers

light up my weary days

like a trip to last summer

like a trip from eternity

light up my heart for you.

Will you?

Like the bated breath like waiting lest

she look away and leave.

I wait to hear the words so

muddled in my mind

like crystal in a set of glass

the realife shines and the fakes they pass

as she leans in close to me

on the wings of the morning her breath it breathes

in me a life unknown

my heart it leaps

and anthems sings

she answered

Yes.

I do.

What does a poem mean? Really, I can pour from the bottom of my heart a poem of such feeling, such granduer and the like, yet if not backed up by actions, it means nothing.

But it was.

A song a song!

I heard tell of the

Men stand by and look in awe at

women stand back and sigh and awww

at the sight of two lovers so newly discovered

each other, together, not separate forever.

My only, yours only,

but me and you.

Forever and ever and ever. again.

I Love you.

It's as simple as that

But is it?

trusting

Bare feet running through soaked grass. The sound of the foot falls heavy into the ground as it releases its moisture. Heavy clouds drop light drops that fall quietly to the earth. It is dark. A blur of darker against the busy background of the forest moves quietly through the landscape of wet. His feet move quickly and without hesitation as he pounds out his trail, making it up as he runs along. He doesn’t fear rocks or stones or obstacles for he knows the groundskeeper and trusts him. Even though he cannot see what is in front of him, even though he does not know the way, he doesn’t worry, his rythmic footfall is unaltered, undeterred as it continues on and on, always forward. His very step is unknown, he knows no more than the stride he takes at that moment. He has no idea of what is further on the trail yet he is not overcome. He very well could be overtaken by fear, he could succumb to the dark and become paralyzed with the terror of the unknown... but he isn’t. Because he isn’t worried with the fact of not knowing where his next step will fall, he isn’t concerned that his path is dark, he doesn’t worry about later. He trusts the caretaker, and because he trusts him, because he believes him, and because he knows him, he will not fret, he will be perfectly content to just run, carefree, in the rain...

Trust Him.

Falling

Black
My hand in front of my face
I see through it into the inky blackness
blind, I feel the wind whipping by
nothing else but what I feel
for I cant see anything
but Black

Wind
It whips through my hair and flutters my heart
I suffocate as my breath is stolen
tears fall from my eyes and never reach my face
they fall and disappear in the abyss
I feel the affects and cannot fight
this Wind

Cold
like needles, piercing clothes and skin
my bones shake and brittle
my clothes offer no comfort or shield
I am naked in this cold black dark
nothing comforts, I am alone and scared
in this Cold

Falling
My heart is in my throat, I can’t swallow it
as I find my feet aren’t touching ground
I’m twirling as I fall all down
flipping around my stomach turns
up and down have switched places as
I’m Falling

Numb
The tingling sensation is gone
the cold I cannot feel, anything
all feeling has passed away, passed and gone
limp I feel like a rag doll, unable to move
my mind screams for my members to stir, but
I’m Numb

Light
Blackness Hides
Wind Cuts
Cold Pierces
Falling Scared
Numbness flashes, yet I see
A Light

The black turns to grey and the shadows lengthen
I can see my surroundings as they emerge from the dark.
Like a mist being removed from my eyes, I slowly adjust
and gather my bearings, thoughts roll and flow,
like a river flowing in the night I see the stones of my cage
moving along like feelings worn down with light, water
I cannot discern where they move, be it up or down.
The light becomes greater and warmth touches my skin
with the light comes more discernment and I see direction.
I know not from where the movement comes
but as the shadows become dimmer I see that I am traveling
moving, not falling. I see a purpose and the light is brighter
I am falling, with a purpose, towards the flood, lighting lighter, falling.
up.

Life
The wind flows through my hair and soul
the light becomes my covering
I’m enraptured by this glorious warmth and
though I’m still turning, though my feet don’t touch
the ground is far down and I never want to move away from
this Life.

Light permeates my flesh and in the life it radiates a beauty
a glow touches my eyes and sparkles, the stars I see
though the light is great, a kindness reflects in my heart
as this glory fills my very soul, rivers of new wash me anew
and pull me up from my death, and depth.
I still have no control over my limbs, my equilibrium stirs
control is in the hands of not I, yet a peace washes.
I see not where I am going, though my senses fail me I will
only ever hope in this bright, light, hope.

L.

Like a whisper of a kiss

your tender touch breathes into me

an incomprehensible joy of 

excited minds and hearts flutter

Dreams fly on the wings of a thought

in the half light of morning we dwell

always in this place of wonder and new dawn

our surroundings are beautiful... because we are beautiful.

We.

Together.

Breathe

Life.

Us.

Forever.

O.

Eyes speak louder than

Eyes speak volumes of 

Eyes give gifts greater than

Eyes give more than you know.

Your Eyes. 

A deep pool, depths unknown

yet the gravity of the deep is bathed in soft light

sparkling like a hundred million stars

falling from the night into a forest of lights

Your Eyes.

Speak. 

like a dewy voice whispering of truth

liquid light in a goblet of silk

like water runs over stones so smooth

Your eyes speak thus to mine.

V.

Words speak louder than

your words speak louder

than words, spoken loudly

speak softly to me...

Whispered gently in my ear

your words travel like a song 

on a breath of wind, that tends my heart

so your voice to me I long.

Fluttering dear,

my heart it sings

to hear your words to me.

E.

I

see her everywhere.

On the park bench with 

spheres of color

every size and shape and 

her.

Walking in the mid night mist

with the green overtaking 

my bliss is drifting

towards with the thought of you.

My eyes search

a crush of people, faces always faces

me, I cannot see her.

through the throng I push 

to see her, my eyes have found

a home.

Captivated

Radiant specks of pure light dance in the night sky. Bright orange from the glory of their former resting place these emissaries of the fire skip to and fro hither and thither against the inky blue backdrop of night. They dazzle my eyes, even to the point where the stars, in all their glory and grandeur, fade into the distant unknown space. I find it amusing that something so small, something so temporary can draw my mind away from something so grand, something so immense, something so... eternal. Yet they do. They occupy my mind and emotions, suddenly all I am is enveloped in this short dance of light, to see where they go, how fast they travel, how brightly they burn....  It encompasses all I am, I let myself be drawn to them and the eternal slips away... Is it because they move and the stars seem so stoic? Is it because they seem so much closer? Is it because it is an offspring of where I am? I do not know, but for some reason they capture me, and I am immovable... until they burn out, which they inevitably do. They must, they cannot last in the vast space of the evening air. They can dance and move and enrapture... but they must burn out. Even the largest and most mesmerizing ember, even though it dances higher and farther and longer than the others, must still surrender its light to the night. To the night, and the brilliant, infinite, eternal and dazzling stars.

 

Stained...

My eyes are falling whirling dripping

Your song echoes deep within my soul

Still you say to me be still

Only you can rest my calm-less soul

Until the day when faint becomes sight

Leaning out and away from the countless shadows

Inside my heart I feel a throbbing, a pulsing desire pounding forward

Still you say to me be still to my pattering twittering fluttering heart.

Stained, I see on my heart an indelible stain

The marks of indelible grace

And when I consider the source of the marks my heart falls silent

In a second glance the pounding turns to seconds falling

Never shall I forget this stain

End shall pass and come and go, and the times fail

Day after day I will consider it, the stain will remain displacing others...

D.O.E.

Wow... Its been over a month. Hmmmmmm well I resurrect the blog today with a poem actually wrote for my friends blog "A WOMAN'S GUIDE TO LEAF RUSTLING" I hope you enjoy:


(D)are to (O)ver (E)xcite.
D.O.E.

I walked through the woods
where the dripping trees sang
softly to my weary heart
and matched the ebbing away of my greatest desire.

Speckled coat, blending into beauty
moved swiftly through the trees of green.
and into the darkness of the unknown
where my greatest quarry now became.

Running along with the ground grasping me
gravity called to my weary man.
yet onward I push with a new desire
to catch up with my angel, this demon I seek.

Quickly she dodges, and smoothly she moves
over and under obstacles take me down.
tears and sweat fill my vision solely fixed,
upon her dew rests and glistens in the half light.

The tears mix with blood as the brush cuts my face
and the rain washes away the semblance of strength
my determination waxes and wanes
as the sight of her I seek fades into nothing.

My burden gets the better of me as I sink into
the unforgiving ground breaks me into
pieces of love lost in the evenflow of weakness
while the mist devours my fleeting sprightly doe.

I lift myself up from the mud and leaves
fallen from the hopeful spring of the year
and brush the dead brush from my coattails and eyes
and glance once more into the depth of the unknown.

She has escaped and faded like the mist in the trees
running over dead and barren branches
dissipating with the new dark of the morning
and leaving desires and hearts to mend.

I stand silhouetted by the bleakness of the morning
a mere shell of the man I started out as.
The strength that rushed has ebbed to a trickle
and my will has left me for another.

The thrill is gone and I feel alone
in this wood of strange shadows and empty
faces flash in my mind and call me on
back to the place from where I started.

I will myself to move and rise, my gait lacks all the pride
My stomach turns inside my head and my steps fade into dreams.
The shadows all have names unknown, they laugh...
I walk this road alone.

Step.
By, step.
And each, step.
I take will, step.
And brings me closer, step.
To the edge of my, step.
Sanity comes on fast and, step.
The mist clears from my vision, step.
And the valley green becomes visible, step.
and stop.
. .. ... .... .....

I see the morning breaking over the hills
and in the break of black I see light.
the hope subsided sides again
and my faint strength faintly returns.

This hunt that was my life breathed in.
fades quicker than the dusk.
and hope like morning fades to strength
and my mind clears with the light.

The mournful sound of the woods to my back
and the glorious light, lights my face.
My heart thaws out from the cold dark night
as it faces this bright and brighter day.

Thoughts from a Graveyard

Today I went walking through a cemetery. Not for any particular reason did I feel the urge to walk and while walking sing many dirges but rather because when in a contemplative mood I like to walk, and a cemetery seemed the best place to muse.

Life my dear friends is an anomaly at best and at worst entirely unexpected. I found myself wandering beneath the trees ablaze with death and color while gazing on stones of cold and unearthly gleam. I thought of my life, how each and every day is filled with struggles and hopes and dreams and nightmares and how each and every minute differs so greatly that one would be hard pressed to look at two separate hours and try to draw a line between. I looked down upon the stones covered with the dead clipping of grass and the shells of leaves unrecognizable to their former glory. I knelt down and brushed aside the debris from two graves, small graves... two children, one died a year previous to the other, both lived only a few months. The hardest part of this tragedy to grasp was the fact that the entire story of a young couple trying to have children and having their precious offspring be taken from them twice in the course of two years was the fact that their entire lives were summed up in two phrases... Born... Died. Nothing was said of the hope deferred, of the hope again for a child that would live, of the joys and agony of carrying the children, of the planning of lives of the joy and ecstasy of childbirth and the sorrow and despair of loss, only two phrases... there were only four grave stones in the plot.

To think that in this one cemetery there are over one hundred and fifty six thousand stories all being reduced to two phrases, unless you were rich and could afford a eulogy, but if not only raw data was given. To think of all the monuments to death, the thousands upon thousands of pounds of stone used signify death and burial. And yet forgotten to the world are the vibrant lives of these countless men, women, children, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, cousins, friends, couples...

I was struck by the image of the trees... amongst all these monuments to death as monuments to life yet even then so truly alive still touched with death. And as I stood under the trees bridging the gap between earth and sky I saw myself, a monument to death and life, standing in mockery of death, but at the same time a mockery to life. I mused at the possibility of such a grand contradiction and realized that we as humans are in fact a greater contradiction and as Christians should be even more so...

We as humans stand as living dying beings. We die living and live dying, we are truly alive yet so strongly are we being drawn to the grave that its hard to keep in mind that we actually live. From the moment we start our existence we are working toward one ultimate unstoppable destiny, death. No matter what we strive for in this life no matter how vigorously we push ahead we will never avoid the inevitable. Our bodies are made to fall and fall they do "From dust to dust".

As Christians we too are bound to the inevitable we are firmly grounded in a graveyard our leaves are dead and dying a symbol of our temporary existence. Yet one thing sets us aside from the cold glossy monuments that point to death as well... We are alive, we have source of life, though we look as though we pass away and stand dormant there is something in us that gives us hope for spring. While we are firmly attached to the grave but we also lift our hands to the heavens because we know from where our help comes. What a beautiful contradiction, dead yet alive, alive unto death and death brings life, our live comes from a death from which comes the end of death and the beginning of life everlasting, where death everlasting is no more. What a contradiction, Now we can stand as a dying mockery of death, because in us dwells life everlasting.

Thursday

Today is Thursday... and Thursday inevitably is followed by Friday which is inevitably followed by saturday and so on and so forth... I am sitting here at my desk deciding where this leads when all of a sudden I am struck by the idea that time is no respecter of persons... It rolls along whether we want it to or not, our lives may stand still entirely but the sun moves on... so should we be subject to this thing which is subject to only God? I'm not sure...

Cracked lips....

Just some quick random poetry this time... Descending into despair..


I hurt.
I feel.
I bleed.
I cry.

I think and
sleep
and then I
sigh.

the tears I shed
run down my cheeks
and rest on curves
of broken lips.

A sigh escapes past bleeding mouth
from swollen throbbing tongue
it rose and fell with change of heart
and sways and swells with lung.

My emanating cry rose up
through curtain, bone and air
it echoed through my empty frame
and continued like a prayer.

The room in which I dwell alone
Is cold and devoid of friends
the coffee’s long been chilled and old
and the lights have all been bent

The shadows playing in the corners
creep along the walls
they rest upon my darkened soul
and slink down narrow halls.

Cries rise up from broken lips
from the throats of desperate men
the screams of a thousand shattered hearts
Rise up and take the wind.


And that is where I stopped... For no particular reason....

You know its funny how our ideas about life can change so drastically... One day all seems fine and then the next the cobwebs seem to come out and play. But one thing that I must keep in the forefront of my vision is Our God is God whether I feel like He is or not... and I can avail myself of his hand.....

Perspective...

Another quick thought for you today.... When something is closer to our view it seems larger to us. It simply must, this is a law of perspective. Did you know that a penny can look larger than a mountain when held close. This is truly a strange phenomenon that something so small can dwarf a thing truly millions of times larger than it.... You know, sometimes I think we are this way with God... He seems so small in comparison to the things we are going through right at this moment, but that is simply because He and our problems have switched places. Our God is infinitely larger than anything in this world but see we have to place him first in our vision. And when we place Christ first in our life, even if our problem truly is the size of a mountain it will be dwarfed by the majestic splendor of our God’s never ending Love, Mercy and Grace....


Perspective.

He IS....

“He is my Light, My strength, My song.”

Ah.... I love that song. “In Christ Alone” A beautiful wonderful reminder of our Great Father. I find myself singing that oh so often. It has become second nature to me, I will be moving along in my daily routine when I find that I have been singing and no other song than that one. I was singing this today when I stopped to think about what I was saying. “He is my light.....” I had been singing that song for years but I think in my mind I never put what it was saying together, In fact I think I entered my own thought in that line “Lord be my light, my strength, my song”. Which Is a true heartfelt cry to our father, but isn’t he already? All along I had been asking God for something that he had already done. He already is my light and so on. I think that this, while not a radical idea, can be a life changing one. When we think about the fact that Christ has already accomplished all, that he was slain before the foundation of the earth, that all our days are written in a book before we were thought of. When we think about these facts Is it to much to think that christ is already our strength... Now at first though this sounds wrong... you will say that this thought supposes that it has nothing to do with us, that we don’t have to ask him and that it takes all the responsibility away from us and now we can live passively... Ok stop. Most of you have a family... and most of your families have homes. Now You as a child have this house at your disposal. Now when it is raining outside you have the choice to run inside for protection, you could stay outside but you don’t, you go inside and maybe even get a change of clothes if you had gotten wet. Now imagine how silly it would be for you to stand outside in the pouring deluge and ask “Home, will you be my protection?” Here is another thought. Would you stand outside an empty house lot and ask and yell and plead that “You will be my protection? Ha... well some might, but most sane people don’t make a habit of that. Sometimes I think we look at God like that though. We look at him like an empty house lot and ask and plead for him to become our protections and refuge when He already is a place that we can run, an “Ever present help in times of trouble”.

So what are the benefits of this kind of thinking? Well first I think it can totally change the way we respond to trials and hard times. For when we know that all things that we need have been provided for, we can walk in the new faith that comes with its security. Second I think (for me at least) it paints a much grander picture of our great God, For everything we might need, down to the smallest most miniscule thing has already been made and provided for me..... everything, strength when I am weak, my song when I need comfort, my light when things seem so dark and my fortress when I am vulnerable to the battle called life. This Is my God, and your God as well. Hallelujah.

But we have to realize this, and not only realize it but avail ourselves of this great grace and mercy that our Lord has provided for you and me.


In Christ alone my hope is found
He is my light, my strength, my song
This Cornerstone, this solid ground
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm
What heights of love, what depths of peace
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease
My Comforter, my All in All
Here in the love of Christ I stand

Smoldering Wick

A smoldering wick...
what once was bright and flaming
smokes and smolders
barely
holding on to hope of oxygen
feed me revive me make me come alive.
In days long past
I burned for you
a light to you for nations.
A gentle breeze I embraced
as a comfort I took it
slowly
I drew from it into a
corner where i could feed myself
and hide in, from the darkness
I was meant to dispel.
Now I cower under a basket
with the smoke wafting up
the darkness that frightened
the cold that scared
the burning.
Yet a new life is breathed
Into the very soul of my souls
And a fire starts to burn
on the tip of my wick
It is barely there.
Hands come from nowhere
to everywhere and shield the burning
flame.
No cold and stormy blast will reach
the heart of my fire and the flame
that grows ever and anon.
It grows slowly still and
greater with each gentle breath
from his mouth he feeds me.
The flame still small and barely
wavering.
Not between the dark but towards the light.
He takes me from my corner
the basket topples down the
table and rests on the floor.
He moves me through the
heavy black which turns to smokey gray
and sets me on a pillar.
And there he holds his hands around me
which don’t suppress the light and
brings the world around me
to see and speak of his greatness.
So on the stand I stand anew
a token
of his loving kindness. I
Will not again retreat
to the darkened corner of myself
that suppresses the light he gives.

A bruised reed he will not break,
and a faintly burning wick he will not quench.

Isaiah 42:3

Isaac and ropeburn....

“Ropeburn”

Dark skies, heavy breath
a wind that stills the motion
a rocky climb and lightning flashes
the thoughts of desperation.

A burst of thunder brings no rain
the wind dispersed the heat
the beads of sweat and tears of salt
fall down to ragged feet

the incline steep the dust it chokes
the rocks fall on their own
the heat in waves washes over doubt
and the heavy mood moves stones

The wood we have and the fire too
the knife is gleaming bright
but the sacrifice...atonement made
seems all by my own might.

Salvation seems just like a word
redemption redeems its own.
To the sacred place we bring ourselves
and to the altar of stone.

The altar stands against the sky
a sign of death and glory
and in defiance it raises itself
and brings the haughty lowly.

The bloodied stones cry out on high
of the tears and life all shed
of the offering made and the price that was paid
and the atonement that came when bled.

The silence is stifling as we arrive at the top
as the wood and the rope are let go
I sit and look over the mountain and vale
when I feel heavy rope on my wrists

I turn around and see my father
weeping with rope in his hand
I look in his eyes and there understand
The lamb we will sacrifice is me.

He binds my ankles and my wrists
yet beds the altar with hay
he lays my down like a newborn child
and brushes the hair from my face.

I feel a tear upon my cheek
And hear a stifled groan
down my face it quickly runs
and mingles with my own.

I feel the breeze from his raising arm
the breath is coming fast
the fire moves close on my neck
and the wind now blows in blasts.

I stop and think of lives now past
of the things I thought I knew
Of the rams that stayed where I now lay
And the thought I knew were true.

There was always a spotless lamb
from the beginning of the earth
God’s way was known to all who heard
But it now seems to have lost its worth.

And yet one thought pervades my mind
like water to the driest rock
That his mercy and love and grace remain
No matter the hard road we walk.

I clench my teeth and weep inside
“Provide a lamb Oh God!”
My father weeps and screams aloud
And his head bows in a nod...

Provide A Lamb Oh God Oh God!
Provide Oh Holy One!
Provide for us your chosen seed
Provide for us your sons.

Breath.
Heat
Tears
And sweat.
I give myself to Him.
I let it go and fall flat limp
And wait for the strike of steel.

I feel not the searing pain of steel
nor the cold pain fire brings
But instead I hear a bleating ram
and to the Lord I sing!

My father prostrate falls and prays
he weeps aloud with joy
the ropes he cuts and fire drops
as He lifts up his baby boy.

We kneel both down on the cold gray stone
and a rain begins to fall.
we lift up our voices praise the one
whose mercy always enthralls.

Atonement made, redemption gave
faith and hope was built
Mercy triumphs all day long
and Through Him we have no guilt.

The altar seemed a cold dark place
where life was taken and burned
but now I see that through the pain
True Life was gained in the end.

I look at my hands my ankles and wrists
I studied them long and hard
For any signs of fire or knife
and for any signs of harm.

Unscathed I passed through the fire and steel
laid on the altar and lifted away
tied up so I couldn’t lift even an arm
But then shown that The Lord Has a way.

Like I said... I was thinking.

Reality vs. Truth

Here is a thought for you...

Reality is not in direct relation to the truth.

The Dark Knight... a study in depravity. sorta.

"Why so serious?"

Last night I went to the midnight showing of "The Dark Knight" It was perhaps the most beautifully dark, amazingly morbid and sensationally wonderful films I have ever seen. A pretty high order but when I think back on it I can only add more adjectives relative to the ones above. It was beautifully acted (Heath Ledgers Joker will be remembered for years to come) and written (a taut plot with amazing characters and startling twists and turns.) The visual style and sounds and everything was perfect. Oh yes and the depravity, you mustn't forget that. This film was dark, it gave a wonderful (if horrid) picture of man and where his depravity can lead. But perhaps more than the film I was startled by the audience in the theatre. There were moments in the film where I could barely help but avert my eyes away from some fiendish act being portrayed, But to my dismay and horror these were the parts the audience lived for. People would burst out in laughter as The Joker (a raving sado-masochist) would pull of antic after antic and watch wide eyed in delight as the body count was raised by another ten. At these moments I could barely watch and everyone else seemed transfixed in a state wonder and delight. This was sad to me, It reminded me that we don't need a "good film" to show us a perfect picture of man in his ungodly state, we have so many reminders all around. I walked out of the theatre perfectly aware of mans depravity but also not without a sense of wonder in a God who can take us in this state and make us like him. Imagine that.