What an environment of change and hope, not in the things of our own planning and purpose but the revelation of the Sons of God and His Soon Return for mankind. These are not times for those who are weak in Will or Spirit, for the Dominion of the dark with deceive and overtake all those absent God’s Indwelling Presence. Do you feel overwhelmed or perhaps have convinced yourself that your money is sufficient for your endurance. There is no other path than that found in Christ Jesus and He commanded His Apostles and disciples to wait upon the Baptism of the Holy Ghost, without which all those who would be saved are powerless.

No audience, not ties or tributes. No dreams for fulfillment’s sake. Just brief tortured analysis and deep rhetoric tossed about a titanium mind. What will is broken in pieces to become land mines for the heavy footed? You are not my nonchalant request. Quagmires fallen. These are not the shoes for such wearied feet. Stolen liberties and criminal associations of character and foolish pursuit. The brackish waters of your wounded mindset continued to hold me to a concrete stairway crashing Earthward. I don’t intend to hand you a patterned smile in diamond dentures.

Fresh air. Plummets toward opened lung. Cooling, grounding as slippery rock to waiting waters. What betrayal the stars predicted. And yet our eyes were captured by the lusting hearts and shade. The promenade of men lacking the one thing that held their universe together. Loving only change as rocket loves the separation from the sky into vacuum and dream. Hold this hand not too tightly that I see your upset, indifference in insecurity. That I may taste the pulse and rhythm separating Spirit from Soul. Into the glades at midnight the fear shrouds the absolute panic of the dark slithering waters.

Sing whether from the frosty depths or the tinny shadows of gravity’s clutches. Elements revealed in anguish holler. Pipes and thrushes. Whistling, pops and chirps from the treetops unseen. I have clutches for the power within you. I seek your expression not silence as the meadow calls the wind. Sweep across the open plain, in pain or joyous passion. Felled only by the pleasing call to sustenance. This is the time to seek the final opening. Drawing curtains with mighty sweep to cover our bows, tears and hugs between us. As we seek the cry encore. Hoping that they’ll leave us go for their always planes or trains for boarding. Leaving and love with the light burning bright in heart.