About anybody. The day starts with me thinking, how should I start the day? A satchel full of rules, rituals, and shouda-woulda-couldas. Trying too hard to do things for which I was never capable or qualified. Earning, learning, yearning for things to come out my way at least this once. Resolved to simply convince myself that nobody ever expected that much outta me.

My ignorance, proper excuse for rambling, or bumbling or simply doing very little about anything. Shoot low and when you get the midsection people are actually surprised and comforting. Dumbed down to believing I should wear a frown and spend my greatest effort at becoming a better clown. Relegated to hoping for things I already have, to circumvent the disappointment.

Whirling when the world is at peace. Standing still after the gun shot started the race. Racing when the final bell has sounded to a waiting pillow, can of comatose or electronic box of hypnotism. Thanking those who never gave, giving to those who never needed and taking from those who never had enough. The pilot was asleep at the wheel.

Shall I accommodate your inquiry with a barrage full of accusations and questions? Or simply slur my speech and feebly reach for my victims list of reasons why I never was going to answer. Ill equipped to get out of my own way. Qualified at nothing but self-deception and imaginary efforts. I casually remind you of the self-inspired world I’ve invited, and you’ve ignored.

You were bored so you entertained me. You were tired so you made sure I was awake. You needed love so you thought it wise to ask me who I hated. Leading me astray took so little effort that you never even had to try. The pride was incomplete and the challenge too effortless for bragging rights.

The ship that didn’t come. The family that let me down simply by being poor. Deprived of the shot by the place that God has placed me. I have assumed the position of delegate to the under-achiever, the hopeless and the ill-informed. Fine ammo for conversation with those who could have made something out of nothing. Magicians of circumstance. Finding flight in insufficient lift, speed, acceleration and drag.

Walking in review of morning. Letting the mind be saturated with occurrence, dream and thought. Iteration and defense war for supremacy in transformation. The day holds pregnant moments into which I am invited for participation. Some humbly, some robust but always filled with expectation and excitement.

These are not the contemplations of a man seeking conquest over everything and everyone entering my influence sphere. Interaction with energies: healthy, honest, willing, weak and ill. Defying sometimes the strict navigation through gravity and time. Each episode offering the wisdom of the ages and the moment.

Wielding the sharpness provided. Precision, laceration, cut and run. What is served up in reflection that makes life matter beyond my own reliant wantonness? Marmalade, madness and meditation, content and intervention. Weaving the wonder in sequence with perception of the real.

Can I see around the bend? Can I predict with certainty the process and the pleasure? Can I through acquiescence rescind my quest for chaos? Stepping in time to the rotating rope eager to catch my ankle. I fall into a rhythm designed before the time took first tick in clockwise wisdom.

The sweet spot in rapid or deep water. Shooting the chute with the loot relaxing the pressure against my boot. Miracle and measure, weather and wither, cold and comfort. I flex until I feel the extrusion against each boundary not anticipating restraint but looking for the borders of forever.

Shouting into the dark. These are not the things of stable men. Rage, misery, unbridled fury at the realm who will not listen or respond. Is there destiny not their own? What calculus involved in trying to get them to a place they chose not? Peace is quieting for reasons plenty.

Dance steps emerging from the dawn of quiescence and compromise in surrender. Finding the paths that were previous unconnected. Regaining or building avenues to hope when despair has lost council. The arguments with self-repel the whispers of Almighty.

This staff was given me. Not for the purpose of cracking heads or destroying sheds and shelters but to make even my steps on slippery rock. It is loss or decreased burden to never have been in charge of anything or anyone. My salvation is found in contentment before the Light.

They will do what they will do to sponsor the surrender and change within. Arguing or impaling with words of correction, anger or disagreement is wasted life and time. I am not sent to correct but to assist in the climb of others seeking summit. If they wish to fall, go sideways or remain on the cliffs caught in fear or indecision that is their own quest with Spirit.

Departing from the edge of my own nightmare. Speaking reason where appropriate requires letting go of outcome or choices made. For within the decisions obedient or self-centered the answer for each man is found in regret, recourse and capitulation to the Will beyond their own.

Retreat forgotten. Though I may not be plodding with cowbell steps forward, waiting is strategic obedience. Launched by the ever-biding embers of Spirit. Onward past tomorrow.

Clumsy in my questing. Gentle in my forgiving heart. Right hand wrapped around the Word. Laughing at the toothy grin of grey-Pit, Samson. Resting and drooling on my booted feet.

Dances of the mind. Excitement in revelation of the way beyond time. Through ages we have eagerly sought the way. In silence and somber meditation, the skinny map revealed.

A voice through the din. Pealing, sharp, content but filled with command and candor. The clarion understanding of orders we’ve long since pondered. Whispering of a complete victory

As days turn to nights, weeks and months. Slumber holds our counsel. Seeking the acquiescence of the children we left wondering. We continue in our search of eternity.

No fight, no harm no fowl dismissal. All find rest who venture to the side of King’s ransom. In fire born in the origins of time, our reluctant worry is tempered with resolve. Love awaits.

To this moment we call muster to all internal. Kinetic or purposed motion all to gain the ground before us. None find hope in losing hope round midnight. For the dawn is upon us.

Lost in contemplation, found in promise. Chaotic in my emotional attempts to surround the perceived enemies of life, at peace in surrender. Raging against systems and voices that seek to conquer the innocent, In Love with the World that God created for me to enjoy. Today we will be on the other side of the lake together. That is enough for me.

Sweating in the toil brought on by disobedience, Watering all the seeds planted and spread before I was even known to mankind. Deceived in my attempt to master reality and time, Conscious of the care and joy given unto me simply for acknowledging God. Trust is found in believing without seeing and reliance upon faithfulness and truth external to my housing.

Challenged by all the perfect catalysts provided for my transformation, meeting them in joy to invite the Holy Spirit. Standing in the midst of enemies far beyond my scope, wrapped in perfect wonder and the characteristics of power beyond their reckoning. No man can even imagine the glory that awaits the faithful.

Learning to love as He loved each of us without qualification or condition, walking in the extraction from hate and toil from my soul. Not in want, sleeping in provision and protection. The gates of glory beyond my mindful sight but not beyond the hope that lies comfortably upon promise. For He is faithful and true to complete this work as I navigate the skinny path bathed in His Light.

Just glad to be here. Underneath this tree of life. Water flowing as I sit and stare at the expanse of golden streets of the teeming movements of the abundant. Wanton, what shall I ask when everything is displayed wonderfully before me? Then the real test. The walking form of God approaches as my eyes avert He bids me come sit with Him and discuss the prayers I offered and questions asked for so many years. This emotion is inexplicable. For tears or words fail. As the day or what seems like a day progresses, I realize the love I thought He had for me was larger than imagination.

He told me had been waiting patiently for my arrival. He thanked me for following the path He set before me as men then as Saint and now as member of the New Jerusalem. At first I had not the confidence or even felt my questions were worthy of mention, but as my Father, He welcomed them and assured me that there would be many more as everlasting unfolds. The birds and animals were respectful, songs of love and praise for He who is on the Throne surrounded our discussion with prayers and music of praise in words that now made sense.

This was the meaning of all of it for me. The pleasant moments spent in the presence of My God and King. I praised Him in song and word. I thanked Him for all that He had allowed me to do for the kingdom. In truth my job is spectacular. I get to love and be loved while being transformed by every situation, place, person, animal or spirit into looking more like Christ. I loved to see Him smile and, in that moment, realized why I had never had dreams or aspirations for his grin was my fulfillment. Too splendid for a man but well received by a member of the family of God, sitting in the presence of the Sovereign Maker of all. With this I would need nothing further and again was left in awe as I realized that this was just the beginning.

Stopped to watch the water, enamored with the rolling sound against quiet pebbles honed. Whispering wings against my ear, insects curious to establish new home or find food left in my beard. All is right and though dangerously true the primary result is still marching forward.

At peace in the middle of rainy winter. Prepared against the chills of the icy wind and wet, I make my perch on a freshly cut stump hardened by freezing. What things I have forgotten or missed present themselves to welcome eyes as if this is the first and last time they are seeing.

The crunch of life’s sound reminds me that the ground is firm beneath my footing. In confident stride I seek the middle of the valley where the last of falls pleasure escaped the frost’s first coming. In congruent to nothing the forest accepts me as though I have something grand to add.

No sweat or regret as the perpendicular has become parallel. Without reason firm in the feeling, I navigate the wind and stream to find the sweetest spot for sampling. All things were given unto men, yet we strive to make them ourselves. Lost my foolish understanding I am amazed at my awakening.

What willing foe would find me in God’s planting? What gifts would I give up now that I have discovered their deployment? How long will a fool await God’s pleasure? How long will a man of wealth and wisdom remain seated? What is the motivation of our hearts, and to which voice our response?

The map is useful only for internal works of valor, fear and avoidance. Projection is the obvious choice, thinking myself adequate to changing the construct of external: landmines, festivals and parades. When all along the song and dance were romance with myself.

If the mirror of the world reflects my internal landscape, then changes may only occur inside, reflected upon the monitor of the war within time central. Characters neither enemies nor friends are sent as precise catalyst to produce the chemical, metaphysical and spiritual changes within. For this is the home of Spirit, this is the place where at present we meet God in the Throne Room.

Since the wrestling, struggling and arguing are generated by my own psyche and characters representing the fractured side of this man. Then, the will and challenge to achievement must be played out in mental topography, geography of the mind and the battles, diplomacy or victimhood between my shoulders.

In summation, my perceived struggle for I may have never had to fight, is with myself and the Spirit man emerging. Each juncture requires choice and refinement or avoidance, denial and projection upon a world innocent until held in narcissistic optics. I am seeking through ignorance to avoid God’s direction and thus am given every precise character, situation and episode to aid me in my choice of compliance or disobedience.

Convincing myself of mastery or dominion is easy for I must only convince myself. A character, who is naturally on board with all of its own projection and life couching. Therefore the realization and or consequence comes from the abrogation of consciousness or the acceptance of a false projection written internally by a man who desperately and cowardly wants always to be right. The hero of my own story. Failing to stop the play that I myself have written leaving me victim to my own choices and commands.

Loosened up my cap in hope of changing my perspective. Reliant on the Will of God to see the next iteration of me. Susceptible to the vain, darkened images of a mind thinking itself sufficient. Failing to acknowledge gravity, time and space doesn’t make them fade.

Hope is reaction to the oppression of indifference. The miles of fence travelled in lazy saunter never presented a comfortable spot for sitting. I’d rather be lazy than ambiguous about the things that make up border between right and wrong. Some thoughts are sloppy.

Is this cage of what makes me who I am? Who is the conductor if not this simple man determining the creatures allowed beyond captivity? In frequency I find repetition, in prediction I find defense from anxiety, in bridled worry I find complacency, slouch and expectation.

What is change but the thing that promises mystery, promise and unknown condition? Those who appreciate puzzle will seek the sharpening sands of time and the beveled edge of file. Never happy with self. Forever seeking those attitude adjustments that make new reactions norm.

In seeking solace from the storm will I miss the electrifying relief of fear or strong persuasion? What have I befriended that keeps me in the cave, looking on at shadows thinking them all real? There is no safe harbor even if I have convinced myself they exist in the shallows of my mind.

Hope is found in embrace of indecision, as the failure to react leaves us wanton for new behavior. Into the wind with protected vision my ever forward progress aids in my persuasion. To believe that the caustic nature of life and love are to be sought never avoided. For in the polish provided by the master I will become the man He planned.

Beside the bed a set of standing photos that nobody else would recognize. Gone into the history, memories and experience no one else would deem important to the passage of time. Yet God remembers and will ask me about how it benefitted the coming of our King. Where then too is the pain of those emotions, the wreckage of fallen dreams the forgotten stream of tears in fury, fear and loss? A man heals and though unchanged the remembered is forgotten.

How so well are you accustomed to the newfound lives? Changes fought now so aptly accepted and used for rampant birth of synapse, dendrite and axiomatic reason. Where then is the gray of so many wars against the prevalence and pertinence of on off or black, white? Where are the arguments and evidence asking for revisionist reality to save myself from battles lost against reality or daydream? how now does it not appear to matter these issues over which I bid life, liberty and identity?

Perspective, view and opinion. Voiced in moments that cannot be recalled loomed so impressive as to be worthy of ending relations. All the hours fought to save loves or familial bond that now are seen as caustic or corrosive. What truly is worthy of my vow or battle-hardened resolve? Where are the dreams and aspirations of children, elders and those things we swore against or for in our quest to float the waters? Where have the rivers flown as the horizon now clears and deserts traversed?

I cannot forget the wounds and scars upon a heart and mind. Yet, so readily into forgotten madness pour the names and characters I’ve known. How now are so very few things important? Random the faces of a past spent by a man who is unrecognizable to present. Too so few the people who have remained in peak importance. Is this my lack of faith, love or enduring bond, or just the price of life lived and mind changed by the wins, losses and forfeits essential to overcome?