To be with you in Jesus. The center of all hearts. So many falls and fails and walls to climb until then is now. Seeking transformation as a man walks each mile in hope. Breathing free the welcome sighs when time loses grip upon life. Cannot get right that which was never meant for mastery. Cannot become something outside of intention. The recipe is final, all roads lead to perfection through practice and promise. Relief is found in simple enduring pursuit and witness. Witness of winter’s watch and mountains egress to find moments with the maker. To feel that instant weight and burden are taken returned to rest and peace.

My dream welcomes those who hated, outside of thought, ritual and clashing reason. To feel the love that’s due them in their fashion. Don’t be so afraid. The darkness shouts so clearly to paralyze the joyful instant when courage inflames your passion to fulfill those things beyond you. Ride on until bottoms up and time is forgotten for the passing of sun and moon. Hold fast the world about your shoulders, keeping rhythm with the wolf, bird and forest. As they too await the coming to be recognized in the presence of dawn. Do not fight except for room to stand, singing bright against the windwatch. As night calls open to the torches.

They will get so close yet know the distance beyond recovery. No humility to find the will to ask for change. Not simple moves to modify our counsel, but renewal, remaking in the Fire Baptism of heavenly labor. What manly thing may enter gates beyond the scope of senses impure? What lash may hold a man’s soul to grounds and air refined by the will of time and God? Holy Ground Son. Holy. To be found listening to silence so deafening it restores a man’s contrition. Negotiating just for footfalls or crossed legged position at the base of ocean’s template. In length’s of burnished brass and glass they assemble peering downward.

Praying for the collision of now and everlasting. Praying for the melding of Sovereign and Temporal elation. Praying for the innocent and evil that they be wrapped in covenant’s blessing having given up the sword and riven heart. Replaced with comfort found only in purpose beyond the quest of mortal desire and leather satchel. These things remain beyond my scope and reason. Why many know the peace to which God leads them yet they replace it with years, eons, and countless age of war, pain and pestilence. Hoping the skirt the rules, boundaries and intentions lain out for all to make their paths right, true and virtuous.

It has always been about you. Why then in simple wishful thinking do you seek your name in each line? As if to find validation in the mention. What passion fills the hearts of princes and priestess, but to kneel together before the sandals of the one who gave us freedom? What greater inclusion than to be within the body, loved by all and God directed? I do not hope for anything in this world to give me reason or fulfillment, only that I may share the love He has scripted on my heart. Walking when running is not sensible and on the charge when sundown will leave us breathless. To sit alone in peace upon the hill as together we listen for God’s quiet mention of each name.

Sufficient for the moment. The pains my heart endures. Reaching out to consequence. Answers and great cures.

Taking time for granted. The moments and each hour. Laughing at significance. With a face so long and dour.

Rhyming without reason. Stopping on a dime. Luring in the great djinn. Who couldn’t wait to unfold time.

For fear is for the asking. And love not often free. In long discussion with mate and master. We all began to see.

The ticket is not counterfeit. The priceless dream insured. Mockery and nuisance. Must be happily endured.

Abiding in true nonsense. Deprived of common sense. The down payment on eternity. Was so wide and twice as dense.

So we fought with out fists clenched. Open heart, welcome hand. The fires grew much larger. Winds blew it as we fanned.

In posture of true wonder. In awe with eyes so wide. We couldn’t wait to enter. As sophist, queen or bride.

For the treasure sits there waiting. For poet, prince or scribe. For whistling is not begging. For imagination we describe.

Things beyond understanding. And castles made of gold. We must equate the offering. When we’re daft and much too old.

I forgive you for the insult. And wish you twice the best. I will not be as the forgotten. Escape poor choices of the rest.

In love with God as Father. Loving those whom He loves. No sacrifice is needed. No more goats or turtle doves.

For Christ has come to save us. And now we’re heaven bound. No matter how often you repeat it. I never tire of the sound.

Love found is in the emotional risk of giving it. Aspects, in shape, size, polarity and promise. Nothing officially occurred until light was created. In darkness all things no matter how sovereign or asleep are residing in the potential of their wakefulness. Loved enough to see the light of creation and breathe the breath of sovereignty within me.

Nothing to share but that which was given unto me in promise. Residing within the context of my reformation, blind, just barely to the things that will emerge. It is not enlightenment I seek, in the pleasure of my own adoration, but that peace that emanates from within each heart as they begin to trust and understand what love does within them.

Mystery fills my spots with wonder. Knowing what should not be revealed simply because I asked. I do not ponder the possibility and that absurdity of eternal consideration. My fate is an offering from the writer of the horizons and the painter of universal opulence. Why would man burden his days, placing weight against the causeway rather than walking forward?

From here to there and anywhere I am allowed to visit, calculate, review and apprehend. For in movement the dance begins. In swell the wave crests. In tide the boat floats. Do we worry about every tidally locked planet, perhaps? The moons and distant starts too numerous to tally are exceptional mystery for someone to resolve. Maybe days yet formed.

Standing bye while possessing the power, talent or treasure necessary to saving life is a monumental sin against God. We of the body feed, clothe and pamper ourselves in self justification and narcissistic precision all the while claiming the rest of the world is “Lost”. How could anyone cemented in this behavior ever consider themselves righteous before the Loving Throne of God’s Grace?

We, as those who follow to emulate and mirror Christ are expected to lay down our lives for our enemies when we cannot even be troubled to come to the aid of our Brothers and Friends. Absurdity is our posture, blindness our handicap and willful misrepresentation and obedience to God’s Word, Will and Spirit our only reward. These are the days of the dwindling exception. Gone are the long defensible moments of I am going to get to it someday. For Someday is passing us by in the slow lane as we rush down the broad boulevard of worldly inclusivity.

Will I simply point my own bony finger as I project this failure upon everyone but myself? Certainly that would be the par for the Christian corporate course, to employ the hypocrisy that Christ admonished to shield myself from scrutiny. But I know myself and my own failures, disobedience and continued sin in the face of God’s calling, direction and command to be holy righteous and true as He is Holy. By any measure of my own behavior I deserve the wages of my sin and know emphatically that only through the Grace of God and the gift offered all by Christ upon the Cross of Calvary may I be excluded from this deserved penalty. It is only through Him that my sins are forgiven and only through my obedience that I may show Him my Love.

These are the days that will make men’s honor or regret. What we DO now in the Spirit of God, empowered, delivered, adopted, reborn is the only mark of this world that will follow us to the Feet of Christ or the shores of Gehenna. I have either amassed continual expression of my contempt for the sovereign in my inaction sponsored by the Loving acceptance of surrender or I walk in His Spirit ardently pursuing His reflection, approval and Love, wearing confidently His kinship. Our end is rapidly approaching beyond which we will need Christ’s Acknowledgement and Spirit’s Power to proceed to whatever destiny eternity provides. Those with the lively hope of Spirit’s indwelling may confidently walk into God’s Arms not in the knowledge of their performance by entitlement but their surety in their surrender to God’s offer of reconciliation.

Where do you stand? How many people have you passed today when you had what they needed to succeed or survive? Guilt is shame placed upon you for needful reason. Conviction is the call of God’s Holy Spirit for you to become the man or woman God called you to become. These are the days of choice, not just salvation but ambassadorship as a vessel for God’s coming Kingdom. Time to decide each day. Lay it down or keep it in store to be left on the field of battle unused via your own lack of obedience and rabid self interest.

Blessed shavings from the face of God. What may be found valuable in the rubble, stubble and aspirations of mankind? What do we esteem, most Highly? What is valued beyond all else? Gold, Silver, the unborn, character reflecting commitment to Godliness? No, all of these have been forsaken for the dire ramifications of self resolve and pleasure. Even gold has lost its sheen being given up for the dark or pure flesh in prostitution of men, women and children. What monsters do we reserve in darkness to explain these evidences?

Woah, to all of us for having walked away from obedience to our Maker. It is no small thing to go against God in personal war or revolution. As member of creation we must above all else remember our allegiance and duty to that making. Forsaking God is accepting that fallen state demonstrated by His angels, ignoring the dangerous example of greater beings in their ambition to escape that duty. We are the definition of foolishness and folly. There is no there there, wherever we are headed will end as it began in the Hand of God judgment.

Thinking myself outside of God’s review in my sinful expression is perhaps the greatest stupidity given unto man. I imagine myself ontologically outside of God’s review simply adhering or relying upon my own self determination to be sovereign. This is no escape from Godly parameters but the adamant walls of self-capture. Nothing invented by a character within the manuscript to support or justify self approved or appointed action outside of that tome will assist in my departure. I am what God made of me. The perfect creation for His Means and objectives. Certainly, as any egomaniac I may pursue my own mental construct but equally achieve the reward of my own imagination.

The decisions remain the same throughout past and future, comply in obedience, logic and love or disobey in foolishness, rebellion and utter destruction. No matter the effort, brain allocation or patient manipulation of the elements found in life’s living will change the outcomes dictated by God. For He alone is God, Creator, Master and King. I praise Him for showing me kindness in birth, kindness and generosity in provision, protection and promise and mercy in forgiveness for my deliberate or mistaken wanderings from the Truth that I know has always been Truth.

Requiting love, only sought when theft in trust beyond reason. Nothing to borrow bright or bold, leaving no heart preparing for hot south wind in desertion. Confirming what has been shown through will and works. There is no other path than obedience as choice. No food but to do the Will of the Father and find unending power in practiced performance.

Remanding ourselves to whispers, followed without remorse or reciprocity. Ropes tightly wound not to bind the fools of fashion but to anchor the drafting vessel moored to landing. In promise what cause in found to hope for better understanding. The food and drink of men no longer lost in the decadence or labyrinthine quest to find the center of the universe.

Freedom, gift given drags no lassos in its wake. No snares or honeyed words of unseen horizons or depths of magma too hot for peace to prosper. Left by the mortal glut of will to guarantee that which is yet foretold or seen. Into false hope they sell their wares. Childish retreat or succor of moms who would not care for the tears of their young.

In aspiration all find the empty pales and wind-scraped ashes of fires gone forever. So few will remember the admonition in God’s warning. Do not depart from seas so slumbered or valleys protected by peaks soaring to the heaven’s. To discover the spent wicks of candle lit dreams and desire for something beyond righteous imagination.

To the camel proclaim your knowledge of walking in the sun beaten madness of golden yearnings. Set in trance to dance and sing to midnight or the sated moon that has never known tear or raindrop. Into what regiment are enlisted the men who knew not pleasure of their Fathers? Only to find that dreams are never enough to build castles to sky and heaven.

Hands on the rail, leaning forward to make out the sails and mountains in mist. Jostled but not tossed or spun about. Keeping time with the snap of waves and the piercing bow cleaving the way onward.

In the distance a silver flash as power and passion sent massive fin making tribute to the welcome sun. As we crash into the next league or fathom, the darkness dwells in the deep,but these days are about light, miles and hope.

Currents tides and gravity from the moon drive us to new ventures. Often placing the finger of cursed memories upon our desire to find new ground. We are not the image of our history, but men of victory, valor and a promise set out by each dawn.

What love does sea possess that she weds or captures the lives and adoration of strong men? Where has she promised to take us? What caress does our relationship guarantee? To what stars and romanced lands are we to be taken?

For the cause of time and markings we make the miles count and the stand upon each dock or beach reflect sound purpose. These feet were made for sand or sky not the carpeted halls of those who push paper.

To God we go. To will we mirror our imagination upon the writ of mindful reason. In reflection of the waves, clouds and stone we show this world and all who watch His season. For the time may come upon us but we prefer to be there before it comes.

The road awaits the touch and sound of feet, eagerly pouncing on opportunity to confirm, validate and express. What does your mind foresee? So many needs, the world waiting and hoping the Sons of God stand up.

This is no dream. This is no practice round or rehearsal. Those determined to be counted and recognized will be challenged. For many this is the moment upon which eternity has waited.

No judgment. No determination or review. Your walk, unless seeking insight is between you and Christ. The Word will be spoken. Some will listen and prevail many will continue as yesterday.

The provision is already ordered, the hope true and yet many still prefer doubt to promise. What gain is found in worry, deadline and the immolation of flesh when spirit rests easy?

There are no requirements but the yearning ear and feet of prophets, trainers and saints. None know the day that could be this one. If such occurred the world would be shaken beyond the core of man’s imagination.

What season have we entered unaware? What remains to acknowledge the return of Almighty? What does it mean to be unappointed to wrath and what is this anger armed against?

Do shaky feet acknowledge the weight of time and unfolding eons? Loam, upon sand upon loose gravel makes no launch or parapet for heroes. The Rock upon which men find hope is all that remains as the King approaches.

What lease? Life came and went free. Grips sustained. Laughs and love given. Pain endured til death parted. No return to the relationships and pleasures adorning this tour.

Show shining eyes. Dour pitch and terms expressive. Reaching hearts with emotive sandblasting. Into the well of souls adorn thy spirit? No bound for a redeeming hope.

How proud the moments spent or shared. Tongues kept home and thoughts roaming horizons beyond imagination. Where does this worm hole go? On to everything.

Facing the radical bounce of market’s plunge. Today’s named true. And all those that loved greatly as God bid them. Champions sans reward. But we know better in Love’s real joy.

How many faith knew better? How frequent the compelling smile or brigand’s remorse for trust in Hope? Who told us to wait until waiting was no longer fashionable? Stern’s List.

Life, measured by the quality and counts of kills or pelts? Friendship held true by those who kept secrets beyond time? How may earned wages from our downfall or smitten health?

There is no place, thing or wrinkle to remember. There is no quest to adorn wet eyes with dry smile. Sullen dreams of steady walks and chats until tomorrow. It’s all too real.

Buried cat the dog admits his lost love. When somehow very little matters while the questions that should never have been asked are answered. And dream awaits a new dawn

In faith you’ve led me to believe. Not simply drives of fear or plenty, but the love that drives the hearts of men to become something greater than they are alone.

The help we may individually provide is seldom look upon in favor. They choose and lose never imagining to be proving daily their allegiance and their worth.

For we are told that it is not about us but about the coming Kingdom. That promise rings in our heads and hearts as true. Still we as men experience the pain of betrayal.

Never saved a sod or sam. Never created nor diffused calamity, for I had planned nothing beyond maintenance of my own weather, emotion and execution.

To walk along the boundaries in hope of being effective. Always knowing but failing to stop myself from believing that somehow my love for them would do the trick.

Delivered from the stresses and realities of failure. All along a pawn to this world and something greater by creation. One chance to be used by the King.

Real work and consequence yet my ego still clamors for hands upon the wheels of time and favor. I am more dangerous than a puppet, drone or simpleton because I want a name.

Synonymous with glory, honor and praise that I may go to heaven bragging of the roles I’ve played and my greater importance than all those I claimed to love.

There are no remaining questions. There are no words left to shout or bandy about in hope of creating fear and overreaction to my claims. I have proven my simplicity.

In misunderstanding I feel the cold pots for embers that may yet catch spark in the fearful frozen dawn. I have left myself depending upon self for power that I never had.

When all along I was sent to serve the Master and instead of simply listening and following direction I chose to ride hard through the winter’s fall in search of medals, men and midnight.