The Rules Lord, changed for them who have something different to say to this ole world? Or are we left some brevity and freedom to expression’s breath? Is my heart set apart from the angry mason, the jaundiced preacher of ignominious franchise? Or do passions sweet and loves felt to dimension’s parallel escape rules and laws of recording’s keep? There are no words for the flow and rhythm of power’s cache to the dwelling in pause with Spirit. To touch sky’s unventured or worlds virgin to creation’s eye we are privilege in the lack of knowledge yet gathered.

To those held in mind’s captive grasp we bid release, not to pause or purchase but to dream and wait. Flowing handfuls of flux and plasma never held but touched for knowledge in passing pulse of power’s pretense. To touch a star sans obliteration. To exist within the dream not as illusory member or captive character sought to work out the psyche’s perplex. Yet to mold and shape the elements before me, in practice of creative learning, shaping, melding, blending and pinstriping. Adding to the wakeful sleep the components of nightmare’s fear and lover’s leaning. To realize that good becomes.

Tonight I fell over my dreams scattered on the ice before me, tripped and crumbled, strewn in clutter’s chaos I stood naked before God. What does a man say when undone by Maker? Deconstructed into paint and plaster, clay and color, nail and mitochondria. Bosons and woebegone’s forgotten feelings never experienced before times casting and man’s knowledge of himself as being. Mortality’s moments sprinkled at the feet of that which always was and ever shall be, beyond, passed the curve of naked and porous vision. Into perception’s purse where imagination shakes, quakes and shimmers for emergence into the what has been. Life’s collective envy in admiration of a KING, finally escaping limits and knowing Sovereign Hope. Set to stone, broken not in bone but raging expectation, before that which called me the name I was never given.

Is it this love Lord for which I was yet made? Cannot figure the price that’s paid for fee of entry for such a one as me. To touch madness brings sorrow and the white blemished pain of memories forgotten. All to the semblance of reason. Dawning now, as harp plays nightmare’s screaming wisdom. Into the depth of joy we have found deliverance for such things as shall not compare to night’s fall, windswept reason or snow gentle quiet.

The babes toying in the background. Yelping twice at frustrations hold upon our struggle. There are none as we, none as longing heard by Father’s, to be told another day to wait on. Sing to the stars of daylight for they know nothing but night and their own reflection upon the Moon’s of midnight. Where is the hourglass to time me as I dance to chime, rhyme and rhythms carry water to that dusty day? Parched in frozen forgotten movement and cadence found caught by tail and plundered.

Tomorrow’s wheels are turning to find the sun and capture half of wonder. Leaving all for the maidens and to whisper of the dream that found by empty brook while splashing in their laughter. Calm as ordinance passes over to welcome flares and bombastic answer to angers free and unforgiven offense. These are the days with dark that rivals vacuum. And to sing without words or hum without hope of desperate science that will save us. Are we looking clearly into future. A dawn of eras without quarter and charming midnight slumber.

Rolling wicker, scraping on papaya summers and fruits of Winter’s wonder toward the harvest call for answer to the quandary. Questions passed around as porridge for the tip of spooned out aching. Reaching beyond stored value to morals of the mourning frost having tasted of the sunny side. Drops of moonlit dew dancing on curvaceous acres with coraled seas and baby blues or amber saucers. These things not meant for man taunt the questions offered, perhaps the tender of the purchase will buy some explanation. Not oft familiar but seldom seen by pupil.

To dance we go, whirling in our days infrequent burden. To shed light upon the freedom of collected wound or unwelcome tear. Flight of the welcome spirit to circle halfway to tomorrow only missing the moment when here meets there and experiential treasure. With pleasure it seems we dream of things we cannot measure. To the halls of seated souls and ghouls of our misunderstanding or direction lost by the brook of soulful capture. We are bid hurry as the time loses grip upon our making.

Understandable, your reaction to the wind. It’s late November and the snow is coming soon. Don’t forget the charm that Autumn first delivers as we prepare for darkness of the dawn. Recall the warmth of the fire in December, as a reminder of the Love of God.

This is the time for all those trials to produce positive defense against Winter’s raging dawn. Perfected by the pressures and persecution of time and happenstance we now stand sharply, leaning into the torrent clutch of midnight sleet. Sleeping soundly we lay down the burden of yesterday’s event gone.

Tomorrow is our resting place a day beyond the curve or down the worm hole’s racing posture. Ejected into scene upon situation upon circumstance we remember the tools provided, for sight, right and might. We grasp at reconciliation with the whispering voice of God as we left for this mission in the madness. We dash to finish as the tape and crowd erupt with pleasure at our passing.

Kneeling at those burnished feet fearing the moment raised to confront eyes of fire. The wire broken, the fire extinguished the process complete or so we imagined. Finding ourselves privy to details beyond veils we set our sails for the universal horizon. To a world misunderstood and good beyond measure at the pleasure of the Lord Almighty. His Will been done.

In moments of desperation those words and phrases that come to mind whisper locution complex and divine. Sometimes I must cry to gain perspective diffracted by my tears to see years beyond my story into glory’s hand upon the sequel. Days starved of brilliance filled with periodic delay in response and carriage define the stark voice of humility spoken truthfully in deference of my pride.

Where are the maps of paths not ventured, the roads and turns not taken the lost dreams and wishes of a man who thought not about victory but more upon lack of failure. Inadequate license no blame nor excuse for life unventured. Wishes filled with the folly of hope and hurried exuberance carry the fragrance of freshly picked grapes arranged bouquet and the quiet repose lacking fear for loss and regret.

Beset by the whispers of fallen kings who in death found end to their braided wisdom call to those who would see themselves unwritten. Trying is not vying for mantle’s trophy looking for reasons to become when becoming is something within each man’s heart. We have been gifted all that need be found among the product of our passing. With Love and propensity at the false or verdant truth written in the pathways of neuron or impulse whispered answers to God’s founding of each life, to promise, purpose and eventual success.

in failure’s dream there is no theme or team or thriving push beyond the probabilities of inadequacy. Dreamt of days without darkness instead of embracing shoulder’s light. Running from the strokes near midnight rather than sleeping and in dream so wake to hear God’s Voice placing measured weight upon the scales of abundance and Joyous fulfillment. Life’s fair flutter a bird’s flight in slowed camera capture, aperture set to low light. We dream of colors but pray for the black and white of simplicities safety and security in the lack of mystery or surprise.

What then within the realm of possibility owned by the princes of hopeful and benign. Quiet recess upon the waves of present ponderance, demanding nuance, significance and portered passion’s. With helms and dark and chocolate night. So deeply obscure no way may be planned nor plotted to understanding. Only in correspondence with the unlikely and uncanny, innocence or anticipation and intuition may the keys to profit be snatched from opportunities clenched and mighty fist. Dreamed of, chased, mastered, overcome and never forgotten as something done not left to feed improbability’s maw.

Didn’t know until He told me, didn’t see until I was shown.

Didn’t have until he gave me, insight, Love and wisdom unknown.

Didn’t fight until the battle mattered for Kingdom Come and continued Life

Didn’t love until He taught me to lay my own life down for the sake of my Wife

Couldn’t fear until I knew Jesus, showing me an All Powerful Lord

Couldn’t Lose until I knew winning and learned the destiny I was headed toward.

Couldn’t dream until I had imagination beyond the things and gold of this world

Couldn’t live until I knew reason crystal clear upon the Cross unfurled

Discerning things, not my natural way, but His Holy Spirit teaches me to pray.

Where into things I have window’s view, so I don’t react the way I used to do.

The Truth is bold and unmistakable and the bond with Him simply unbreakable.

When Judgments call is too unwise I seek the tools that the Lord provides.

Didn’t know until I hope for a pathway through the dark within I woke.

Didn’t stand by my own hand took the help of Savior and what He’d planned

Didn’t dream of eternal life, barely making it through daily strife until He spoke

Didn’t wake until God said careful now to lift your head, come to me that you be fed.

Big sausage raindrops Tears, threatening the Earth as they landed sending shock waves across the lake of my interrupt. Heaving, leaning sideways to see the clock hands remembering that time is relevant even in the height of my all out emotional savagery.  A song played that I could barely recall and the words matched the heartbreak she gave me as she walked down those broad windswept stairs into memory. What better to remember the complete loss of control or the gift of not having any control over the vexing cramps in my face and side as the world had turned to Earthquake?

Farming out reason for a new ticket to abandon of emotional palsy. Imagining the permanency of upset I rolled and tried to rise to one knee, but even my joints had befallen heartache’s plunder. Pitching forward to some frail attempt at yoga pose, forehead to formica and faintail skyward I ceased feeling pain as it all shut down. Sunday morning I awoke my nose two inches from kitchen table, wondering why the lights being on didn’t matter then realizing the sunrise threatened memory of yesterday’s loss. Wondering into the disarray of recall attempting to piece together some adequate understanding of the disruption to my universe. She had gone and now it was time to face it, tears, sagging chin, inadequate reserve but the remainder of a tall tale told that men do not really need women. I held to that lie with all my strength and purpose for it was the only island available for mooring upon the seven seas of abandonment.  I vowed with a wry smile of quintessential joy to be happy catching fish and eating coconuts for eternity.

Then came the phone call, if I had seen the bottom I now found the floor was just an illusion for support keeping me from the bottomless pit into which I now descended. It was her Sister, she had just left the hospital to tell me of the accident. What accident I said and then my descent began, freefall, no hope, endless despair as she had not only left me in this world but now resided in the next.

Cold Stones, Clear Water, Dusty-blue wintery skies. Warm bones, Son or Daughter, voice in side reduces you in size. Hallowed name, and baited breath, with every fiber you’ve got. Sans blame, escaping death, with perfect blood we’ve been bought.

Pine and harbor, morning fog, sits one half mile out to sea. Fine of faith and ardor, no miry bog, resists my desire to be free. Bleached white, fire at night, baptized in spiritual flame. No two the same, loved before sight, Saved by His wonderful Name.

So Near to Me

Come a little closer so that you’re all that I can see.

Captured in the moment I can only say.

Leave it all behind me cause you wanted it that way.

Storm’s Frost, nothing’s lost. Dressed to meet the courier. Standing attendant to the King. Stammered thought, sit still we were taught. Damaged in no measure. Too small to understand. What had been planned leading us to ought.

Casually demanding too perfect for the Queen. Seldom scene alarming, superficially disarming. Pride to rest, untamed by clarity’s calm. Sweetly humming psalm, palm to chin, tears be caught, gathering so deeply the reasons that we fought.

Willing to follow Him, as the cup of iniquity is nearing the brim. Full to the top with our sins, waiting for His return when the peacetime begins. Hallelujah chorus isn’t meant to bore us but to call us to surrender to the Sovereign I AM.

Divine, refine, been losing our mind, trying to find the way to be free from this jail, Overcome by your power and might, Keep the sleeping Lord within my sight. Abraham, then Moses lain up in roses only to see the savior raised on a tree

Nothing still comes for free, Wanna be what He meant for me, spreading the good news for the world to see. A drop of salvation can stop the invasion transforming this nation roots that are Pagan filled with Grace, great big smile on each face.

What are believers but Kings, subscribers to all the Lord Brings. In love with the Song that He sings. Princes and priests and daughters delight, gonna keep the oil in my lamp overnight, cause if he calls my name then when timing is right.

In circles of reason I find myself lost dreaming of simple answers that always make sense. Delight in the voice of the Savior above me as His quiet still voice remands me to calm. At once found in memory of things I never knew, that there are so many flavors and shades that make blue. With nothing to conquer and so much less left to do I walk down the pathway and point them to You.

Stammering, clambering, yearning to get into the shadow of the passing world.  Hoping to hide hoping to abide as closely to the Word as speed and gravity allow. But for now, the pause is the perfect play. waiting, watching, hovering on the backside of tomorrow, escaping detection through making no play.  What you wish to stay, well that depends on the amends and how the wind whistles and bends the grass without breaking.  Forsaking matters better left forgotten then pursued, navigating the feud that ensued. There is no breath in the words held back only silence and hiss and a mild remiss as we partake of the bliss in surrender.  There is no tender or gold nothing to watch when we’re old, nor to be bought or sold for true ownership is proteomic resemblance.

Dressed in black not out for mourning or to escape the light of dawn’s morning but as shield to discovery by night shark.  For in the dark they dwell, the rage and they yell, practicing for hell, the best I can tell.  Conscience follows the righteous mind as clarity precedes evil’s permissiveness and under duress and shy man will tell a tall mountain of tales, of fish nearly caught larger than whales and mermaids grand tails, or black purple sails and seas with no tide.  With a broad drunken grin we were welcomed right in as the parlay depended on password. Once on board the the double edged sword bought us secrecy in the belly of beasts.  But those unafraid are handsomely paid by the answers to the prayers that they have bent knee and made to the God who doesn’t fade from intervening in the meaning of all that His grand plan foresees.  Paid for the birth and for much that its worth gave two-pence to the quarter master for bedding.

Shedding the burden of dream nothing it seems carries with it the yesterday’s density. The mass of sorrow and pain filled pardon have only softened not hardened resolve bread of surrendering concern for peace, pleasure and humble hysteria. It time, the crimes diminish leaving polished finish and gloss from the moss fallen from stone’s catapult or thunder. Lightning shatters darkness but loses grip as it slips to the memory of miniscule moment where the dark seeks dominion. But Light in the night is not forgotten by morning’s homage to creation. Cessation, abrogation of right and measure of faulty weight beckoned with two fold legal authority to sparsity and cause. Put pause to conquest and still the fight or flight to seat before the calm quiet pleasures of a King who gives you counsel.

Yonder the just have burrowed to discover their lost cornerstone, fallen free from the moorings of mismanagement, into the valley of despair and lost recognition. A position for which the basest seek deliverance and shall never be proper home of the righteous. Remember the weather of raucous days of dilemma and displeasure, when you knew neither the countenance nor King. Bring to mind the dross yet more to loss of Motus operandi or fallen features of buildings erected for self reliance. What shall freedom’s motto bring to the castle moor to mystery. With history so bland it demands relief from belief in the motif of forgotten springs, rings and scenery bewildered.