Spurious and furious moments determining my victim-hood. Banished to the willful disregard of Glory. Time spent nigh consumed reflecting upon a pool of tears, each numbered and categorized with the shameful story of my benefactor’s disregard. Ill advised, spending time wondering why me?, or perhaps shaded when I felt the need for sun, under the gun to produce when there was nothing left to muster. Demons dancing around my daydreams forcing me to pick the litter of my rubbish life. Lying in the sea of self doubt, pity and recrimination I turn to God asking rescue from a sunny little lagoon.

My triumphs, nothing grand but there has been deep love given and received. No wings, no fame, no glorious treasure but the world’s I conquered had nothing to do with empire. Feeble fiscal standing yet always able to shed a few pounds from the over indulgence from which I am yet to escape. The eyes of this child are filled with laughter and joy at the funniest little bug. No grand enemies, all forgiven, they seek my life yet can find no hateful outrage, so they pass me bye labeling me disinterested. I have been saved from sin and death and that alone was why I came, the rest is all gravy and loving neighbors who frankly deserve more love than I could ever offer.

What downhill story may I mention to bring reflection upon my palsied reticence? What weight of worlds’ squashing my madness cause your pity to ruin my adventure? What chains still bind those freed indeed? I am bound for Glory’s Hall, to spend supper with the King. I sing in words and phrases not uttered by the tented man but in whispers of horizons with colors yet invented. This is not the heavenly address for which I was intended. If this be a ride headed always toward home no matter the direction, then ride it I will with joy in my heart and a tune upon my lips. Something new, not born of a life well or poorly lived but of a promised venture to somewhere I have yet to understand.

This is as hard as I make it. Tragedy’s teeth cannot swallow the Spirit of man headed to Christ footstool. Pleased to even be seated inside the doorway that I might someday get a glimpse, yet He says I will look directly into the burning eyes. How can this world measure such a man? Finishing this is all that I’ve left to do, except of course if I am rewarded with tasking from the Almighty Father. And what greater joy may come to man than to be used along the way by the Will and Hand of God? There is something new in this heart of mine, not so much a thing as it is a missing doldrum, replaced by endless wind in a sail as wide as Mars. What songs shall be sponsored, what dreams achieved, what answers questioned. We have yet to see in the joy of that which is yet known.

May you be blessed today with a visit from Jesus Christ the King.