Are you who you are or do you desire to be something less or more than this reality? Prodigy, stellar athlete, beauty queen or beau? Is this quest for love or recognition to heal inadequacy or ruin? What of God’s loving care? Is it all that you have ever or will need?

Never master or servant be, fame or fortunate man but never beast except in the dark dwelling of the concealed imaginary me. The defender of faith, hero to all and eloquent barrister to Prince and Pauper. The reserve a seat at parties and the desert oasis.

Who is beneath in the social peck? Who do you hold ambition to become? What contentment shows it handsome head in your peaceful dominion, owning little yet having the kindness and control found only in the image of our God? How do your feet fall or knees rise?

What quest lists your name in historical debate, what harmony chases hearts out of their flesh, what dream sequence remands all who review to the outskirts of grace? Name the petitions which have saved children, set women free and captured the hearts of Troop?

You are a colleague to the few and friend to many, but never too close so that you may be shared in the Squared Commons. Holding close but never too tightly as to dissipate the passion or force that which is of choice in to obedience. The child laughs heartily sans fear.

Are there those who seek your understanding or discernment? What pressing questions arouse in mid night’s progress that will salve the wounds of hearts yet corrected? How decent are the promises made to strangers or offerings made without grudging unforgiveness?

Dancing when skies rumble dark and sitting at cabins edge as moons race across the heavens. What colors have you yet invented, naming hue and chalice as the moorings tightly whine? The sea awaits and the forests deep dark and plenty demand your axe.

There is no limit to your surroundings, amassed in clarity with riches, word and sound. Seeking all the best of Earth and Sky, the eye of reason blesses all your work and process. You find love in all that comes on the platter of provision, knowing the joy of pure regard.