Next to You Lord.  The Place I want to be, infallible in my innocence. Times have come when simply being prepared to be the best at being me are insufficient to the circumstance and mission support. Asking, for the things that I always requested to be taken from the table as a new list has been proffered. Reactions though acceptable are not inclined to the destination achievable. Wandering from sight, farming out ideas, ferreting for treasures of manhood have been labeled unwanton. As their ire increases it becomes less likely a harmonious fellowship available. Men must ebb with the times or the times will wash them away with ferocious disquiet.

They worry, some to the point of abandoned reason or hope. Oh that their hearts were calm having purchased peace with the refined gold of wisdom gathered from Spirit’s Fold. This journey must be deliberate, walked with intent a sense of force and folly consistent, aligned with perspective reason. We must not waste moments without reserve. No reservoir of fate or fiction from which to steal or recreate the purpose from our crafting. Touch them and let them lay weary, sanguine to intrusion. Give us the mechanisms of pure heart dedicated to sole fealty, marshaled in thought, hope and power, marching in tandem with Light’s Spectrum.  This may not be fake and in authenticity let them smile the overwhelming grins of mercy, joy and hope supplied meager in man’s allotment.

What now Lord for the fury of your anger swirls beyond the edges of our vision and expectation? Are we to stand against that dawn? Are we to place our hearts in that awful place of not knowing this moment from the next in our faithful undertaking?  Are we too to fight fear’s battle awaiting storm’s end when we know the winds shall not be parted? A quiet place for my heart’s residence. Do the lowly account to riches of glory and fortune? Do the wicked prosper through brave inclination? Do children deserve the torturous intent of sin’s uncommitted? Are the drowning saved only to be cast out to greater seas by the Hand that once plucked them from consuming wave? No, sense makes itself known to the mind of man. There is a day coming when some will not fit within the dimensions that measure this nature, having been permitted a change, transformed to incongruity.  And in that inconsistent measure will be found delivery from life’s charge, snatched from harvest’s call to await new measure of grace and glory’s patience. Prepared for things beyond current expectation.

For now to dream of pleasant hope. The hope of nations and children of a time when all are free from the fearful and the hidden harms of hearts darkened by man’s pleasures. That day about which little may be said with insufficient words, born to describe two dimensional reason and aspects that this light may never capture. A thing of eyes, hearts, hopes and promise. A day designed specifically for you and me.