What word may I form and deliver to grow, brighten or change the world? For in this quest of mastery to man, words are our greatest offering. Thereby the essential task of a learned man is to measure, shape, prepare and deliver the word that matters most and to equally forestall, refrain and abstain from delivering caustic or dismissive language. How then am I tempered in life by my own doing or epistemological influence to consistently locate, test and offer word that is productive, encouraging and fruitful?

For men seek power and there is more power found within the kind tongue than twenty armies muster. Equally acidic rhetoric may exponentially inflame or destroy that which is frail and expectant to maintenance. Therefore, we must embark upon study, practice and recalibration to develop mature assets in eloquence, comfort and descriptive hope if we ever hope to find the greatest authority available in this life, the power to transform the world around us. This assumes that I am a self sufficient being taking no influence, training or direction from my peers, tutors, elders or God. However we know immediately the inadequacy of our thinking as these influences will in fact produce the greatest impact upon our verbal delivery. Man is not a vacuum and does not go through life solely effected by his own counsel and apprehension. We are products of those voices that we choose as our guides to maturity. So in expectation of word mastery our choices must be made with wisdom and calculation if we expect to achieve optimization.

God makes sense. A review of Biblical reason and the sacrificial mission of a living God is by all account the greatest story of human achievement known to man. God’s Direction and word therefore becomes an essential study as man quests the pinnacle performance. Those who fear it for religiosity would never say the same of Plato or Plutarch which begs the immediate question why the thresholds of thought apply solely to the Word of God. Especially considering its pivotal position and man shaping content or impact upon our oral delivery and emotional eloquence. Study the philosophers but first study God for all the philosophers are offering commentary on that which God created. Second-hand thought is never better than original thinking. Do not be cajoled by lesser men into narrowing horizons by excluding the Greatest Word just to please the fear or hate of man.

Once sufficient literary content, grammar and vocabulary have been established the encumbrance transforms to one of voice/style discovery. Each must find his own voice or listen for the musings that play solely in their own heart. None of us want to be someone else we want to have their skills and then out perform them earning our ambitious acquaintance in fame. We always want to outdo our teachers, idles and Fathers. There are no copy cats only those who in so mimicking have admitted the superiority of those gone before us. Each of us is made unique and were always intended to deliver new flavors and content to the universe. So find your voice, even and especially when the building blocks of our own writing, speech and thought resemble the best of our teachers.

The rest as in life is practice. Life is its own meaning. The importance is found in the living, the doing the empirical breathing, thinking, speaking and acting given each of us for a number of years. Your word will become rich or poor by how your life is lived. It will become colored by the grief or joy you experience or maintain in this living. If you wish to change the world then your Words must be of sufficient content, structure and power to motivate others to that transformation. You alone can determine whether you are an edifying influence or succubus. To live and love and sing, speak or write for positive construct of others is the greatest achievements, though those who seek dominion will express their power in consuming all around them. As in all things the greatest power of life is in the choice. The choice of our words is the greatest expression and indication of our choices and our spiritual authority. Choose wisely for others are always listening and perhaps will be changed for the better by what you’ve shared.

Never wishing to brood I put down the sandelwood brush and hope for harmony, light and merry mirth to visit. The twisted image of contorted children burning in the fires of war bring tears and the twelve ton joy crusher. Lost ostensibly forever my reckoning of humanity with those I find most “human”. Married for the moment to an unappreciative mate I find myself searching for the dark, sullen hiding place of depressed men. My dreams are not the flashing nightmares of Adonis crazed by unsullied grace, but the deep focused tutorials of transformation’s voice appealing almost willing change. These are days for light hearted fellows who can look upon sin and grin in open admiration. This time of darkened stars, a sweet sooty smell of sweat and offal brought as offering in its impurity. These are the moments few when the fallen have their day. To the Will of God I pray my allegiant understanding knowing in foreshadowing the frailty and impotence of my capacity to rule this lot, this time, without a heart to share among them. I leave less convinced of my superiority, engulfed in the awareness of the separation between righteous and untoward.

I lift my voice in cry for mercy’s hope. To pierce the void and dull grueling gray I search for Nebula’s splash of super heated gasses thinking no darkness may shroud the delight of heaven’s fury. What soft hearted reason is life so easily rested from the breast of the perfectly pure? To see the tremors being upon the ridge of hand and pass to tapping toe as anger impoverished by starvation finds new porridge in the raging august heat of my heart’s regret. Where are we gone that there is no summer’s cause for jest and smiles fill the air of community’s wealth and repair? What forgotten land has replaced the pause of blossoms render to blood red, blackened vein in corrupted flesh? Must men of courage look upon such things with hope of breeding indolence or cause for ardent quest to bring home the measure and return that which had so intrepidly found lost. Men may search dark tunnel seeking that valorous moment when death is acquainted with itself, but we were only made to travel to such places for purpose and denying fear bring God’s Wrath to the hidden. Removing their supply we hope upon all righteous breath that man’s simple and faith filled escape the broad incisors of that gaping maw.

What will to man that God has not corrected in folly’s pursuit? What words too ignorant display the lack of man’s own sense, found immeasurable by sin and impure thinking? What day so short that will to reside at the foot of God never finds light in the bosom of those with candor and courage? What harm give man to children or wife or elder patron that undeserved shall bring any measure of faith or worth? Why to unworthy cause lend the sword arm of men destined for courageous venture? How measure a man’s life that ill spent moments find themselves reconciled with deeds so honest and real, they ought not be whispered in similitude? Do cry our souls the loss of man’s kind reason? What harm have we to bring that God would allow any measure of man or life the cause to purchase such unworthy conquest? To those who wish mill stone collar never stain the sight of men who love, Love. Mud wallows to swallow up all regard of Life and Lights brilliance demeaning flesh to terminal understanding. We shall not miss the grey swirling horror beneath bridge nor shall we ever forget its abomination by forgetting for one second that evil did capture the heart’s and minds of men.

April ends dreamingly captured in May’s allure of colorful promise and Sun drenched hope of June’s fellowship aplenty. Awash in life filled to robust measure seasoned with cinnamon spice and overwhelmed by haughty blossom. Nights longer than naps allow, I fall pray to the whispers and meandering reorganization of timely sent program change. Forgotten all that needs forgetting, open to the grand canal of wisdom and the gulf stream of unfinished words, set upon my tongue pre launch. What value has wanton expression but the timid or not so candid exercise of attentions gathered? A pawn so curtly expended and blushing as the Queen leaves her rightful place to wander.

How rapacious of Summer’s head dress displayed in advance of noon day rise. Surprise so sweet the fall of many to find in vision the reason for our collective madness. When did we sit so cautiously, in thought, inured by the Sun’s cleansing touch upon skin so white it explained Winter to a warm heart. No dash of radiant emotion or glow of palpable fate would save them from the dour dose of dusty clouds found penned in darkened scroll the incantations of romance. Why moist rose colored lips that match my glasses were doomed to express the calamitous imagination of twenty. Gone so swiftly retired promising nothing but taking it with it the baleful smells of cut grasses and the swelling unpleasureable swelter that the ground offered as breeze.

So soon left wanting the cleansing relief of sweat upon standing brow. Not the chill but the night approaching mentions with each passing star the coming cool and handfuls of harvest ripe. What sandman torches the dust to replace it with Autumn drops so large and sweet that the icy touch upon the hand’s back sponsors thought of sweaters and mulled wine in hearth kilned kitchens. This wind is true and hints at the cool night’s pleasure at bringing north facing slope to eastern rise. Fall, having done its work each green worker asks gravity’s assistance to sleep and live again come March’s Ide. What shame to heat the day so pleasantly then steal the same warmth from each heart by night’s fall. Still the noise of day as many prepare for the days when time slows its promenade.

Then the test of hearts and constitution wields its sword against the will of man. As winter calls to the Spring come don’t leave us long, we are left without green leaf having to dream once again imagining rebirth, growth and replanting. What launched on august whisper now shouts hearty as the shutters bang and the trees scratch against the roofshake. What icy nightmare awaits as we struggle to remain awake seeking the last breath of embers red hope. But all quests end and some not so speedily lead to the safety of old man’s reason as kindling bones and fatty bottom find embrace in woolen wreath wrapped thrice about. Day’s uncounted shed their hold upon our workings until suddenly that smell of rose upon the wind wakes us once more to the celebration of life’s cyclical promise, granting hopeful realization to frozen feet and wind tired eyes. We wake again to call of unfurled blossom and nectar’s tasty answer. To life we must until time bids us leave to the land of waking dreams.