Somber contemplation of America’s dilemma. Self-inflicted as my own separation from God’s Embrace. Curious this pursuit of alternate reality, treasure and the narrow passage between the rough spots. What grows in the sullen waste of abundant understanding?

Knock from me the protrusions and protections from the sea’s rough. So tough my belief in self, immediately reduced to infant when tested by ravage or shortage. Growth in the darkness of unprofitable thought, how useful mold and fungus in the noonday barrage?

Oh, the sweet spot of sand’s buffeting. Silicate and crab picking at those things which emulsify into sour-beans. What remains the building blocks of future planting. Calm washed surface ready for the tensions and awakening of soil, catalyst and the hope of each morning.

Toes dug deeply into the wet gritty beach, leaning back to watch the wandering clouds. Roll, billow and promise home of rain drops plenty. What provision promised in the depth of moor and Earth? Stepping back my presence is washed away from slate and fate’s single focus.

What death takes a man constantly on the mind and at the feet of God? Justice found in slumber before waking to peer into the burning braziers of eternal flames the origin of all things. So clean this return to perfection all embers dust all thoughts quenched, so clean.

Linens light touch upon shoulder, hip, hanging loosely against the background of a trillion stars. Fleeting reliance upon those things which cannot produce food reducing shortage. So eager the thoughts of vain glory believing each time will be different than all of the rest.

Finding fillers to replace the emptiness of truth. Not reduced but made whole in this provision of wisdom against the frailties of foolish youth. Protected from the winds that once whipped long haired dreams of plenty and mountain patches of fruits grown heart-wild.

To return or shown new paths that lay dormant to a man who sees himself center. The Glory of fires on the hill before my sight. Sandals the thing of comfort not necessary in fact wholly repugnant to material beyond the seed of mortality, what crops grow viral in Heaven’s Hall?

Think it unworthy of compromise or pensive patience? Perspective the warmth in arena where I feign dominion. Surrender my home, knowing the joy and release of any self-delusion. To grow where I am planted, watching eternal the fruits born of union.