Awesome days of willing wonder. So many ideas and the weight of this world and the next to set aside as burdens never meant for this set of shoulders. Where is privy when all may by choice have a conversation with the Sovereign? Fair winds and seas ripe with favor push us toward and beyond the horizon’s events. Singing songs of rust colored dogs and patriots happy to be slathered in old school dirt and ash. Are these the days promised? Are these the challenges determined to transform the world, making men anew?

The season of arrival, as all parched await a slaking thirst. Petrified by mourning worlds’ passing we cling to ideas, baubles and sweet orange dreams. Staring into eternity the same song refuses memory’s inquiry bursting forth with melodies that write themselves in joyous anticipatory affect. Where did reason lay its head to rest? Is it gone tomorrow or planning return at some point on some unforeseen timeline? We cannot be all things to you and yours for we have yet see what we will be in eternity.

Making plans and packages with no address or label, some songs fable some real as the heat of sun’s arrival. And into these circumstances victory must be injected finding hope in simple things as promise portends. Perhaps it’s time for some sublime bit of rhyme to avoid the crime of tomfoolery. Indolent procedures neglected rhetoric surrounding rules and moral culture. Standing alone inside of hope, unbridled bubble to stem the tarnish of off-shed misery. Reflecting on the peace of might’s and treasure I count it all pleasure to measure the rest of humanity against my quiet slurring tune.

Attacked unmercifully by concordant hearts in evil’s thrall. Scratching messages on parchment for posterity, inscribing indelible ideas that all may have chance at witness to testimony by Grace found in the reveling murmur of one who called Him King. Fashioned gifts of reason hard set in recall to the trance that grasps one’s ego, reminding, cajoling, acquainting all to the nonsense of moral repugnance. Insight beyond calamity suggesting that what we plausibly thought to be civilized was itself the birthplace of misguided thinking. At dawn we knelt refreshed to the humility designed to encompany visitation with the source. In fetal wake we sat together perceiving a new world emerging to greet us all this morn.