An unlikely foe, downtrodden by the effects of willing decision, having found his way from comfort to brigandry, my age old friend escaped my process filters. Imaginary efforts to establish my regime left me unprotected in the conscious realm. A placard handily positioned above my sanctuary bidding all enter especially them with ill intention. When harms way aptly ventured, the safety of delicate pursuits abandoned, neither rhyme, reason or song shall protect us from the creatures of night and shadow.

Good grammar is insufficient hammer to shield from graft and gift of poisonous posse. Unrelenting is the force and will to see you unseated at this year’s pageant. Step lightly and test each footfall for the loosened boards of the dance floor will rapidly give way to your clumsy footing. What manner of crime scene that which deprives one of common decency and protections from political unraveling? Where is the courage and whit of ages past? Why do the lawless seek masking without asking the censors for leeway? Walking as if there are no lawful parameters of justice.

Drowning by the beat of thrombosis against the polar ice cap of my frozen perspective. Ill equipped to stand erect according to my creation but disinclined by revelation to return to darkness finding fondly the light before me. Contemplating the in depth calamity of man’s born morality grasping for immoveable foci. Landing precipitously at the edge of my entrenchment the corona gives way to more thorough understanding with quotients, elements and foundation much further from previous points for viewing. Forced into transformation not mitochondrial or chromosomal but ethereal, infinite and sanguine.

There is time to run through the salient points once again before offering edict. When things are rushed for the sake of emotion or momentum the best options have yet been extolled. We are not property of poorly threshed opportunity or idea, but the deep moral thinkers upon the affect of our propositions. If it was necessary and consequential to make it four thousands pages long then the analysis of those pages is more important than the writing thereof.

My heart is partial to the obeisance’s of its wanting. It labors not for the good of all but for the profit of the few within focus. However, the heart, when given sufficient leash may outsmart time and concupiscence to deliver topic, thesis and conclusion consistent with egalitarian good. We are not slaves to the momentary reasoning of men concerned with hollering bellies. This is our wake in which the world must struggle to get its sea legs. Assaulting upon the innocent ought never be foundation or filling in the lessons of mankind. We are measured in the time we are given, to leave such legacy is suffering and unconscionable at best.

What then of Spirit and the leverage upon our person, our contemplation and works? Do we position God in such repugnant state that we scantly reflect the image of His Word against the actions to which we’ve dedicated our reason? This short sight is not the long term hope of humanity. We were meant to employ the weight of treasure and history against the possibility to create those things worthy of God’s review. Shall we be forgotten as those who allocated insufficient reason to resolve those things within authority? I think not and think again upon all those steps I find necessary to moment.

Heart and hand beyond my will to understand. Simply fume and make demand upon the witting world around me. Songs to me bout the angry and the free fade to mist in agony. The abomination of utter failure.

Looking back every side step and attack put more bricks upon this back, while heaven waited on my frailty. Making lists and listing hard to port thinking of some grand retort, humming loud enough for sea to hear me.

Long since gone storms are settled against the dawn, bishop, Queen, rook or pawn, we all have seen the toil. Up against what we all have feared the most, Father, Son and Holy Ghost beneath it all firmly fit with fashions plunder.

No reach, no love, no harbors fit the skin that’s left won’t feel it a bit. Loss of limb, or life so vile only hope may reconcile. Into the charge do brigands bluster barely came to face the muster.

Memories and data filled all emotion in words fulfilled passion fuel in blood we’ve spilled in keeping with grand gesture. The wind picks up to boasting sail in friendship, kind and Word I fail, giving jailer and priest their bail heaving to for keel and bail.

Lining up to read the list if you join we must insist that gifts and pride be left aside this journey only God may guide. Profit some and words do tell the moment that all passions fell clanging pot and ringing bell

No Time to wake the Master icy step and snow’s sweet calm the wound would not accept the balm. For reasons plenty and rhymes so few out of His mouth the false will spew. And regale the days when Winter slept promised perfection to each adept.

To Heart and Hand He gave me sand to chase my will or follow His Great Plan my reason always in short demand trying so hard to slake the flames I’ve fanned. In dark and days of short supply, seeking the truth and reasons why.

Each man appointed once to die and then sweet Justice for which we cry.

Gritted teeth at the mention of chaos and calamity. So in love with order and procedure that I seldom venture into the realm of possibility, preferring to predictably enter each episode fully assured the lack of twists, turns, mystery and unfortunately instantaneous Joy. In fearful anticipation I have written the next chapters or at least the sentences that lead to comfort, peace and limited opportunity for growth or mystery. Hope is a wild thing, finding joy and faith in the unknown that is fully rooted in the absolute.

Feeling the way forward, I step back into my customary shield of fear. Way lay beyond this request, this question shares the potential shame for which I have established reliable crutch and bastion. Hiding in the familiar I comfort myself in the old and the completely understood, basking in my lack of the dangers found in newness and mystery. I appeal to the prevalent sense of Safety to keep my complacence. Let no bad thing come my way that may transform my capacity to prevail in dark times. For I want the path easily mastered, the broad boulevard of humanity’s march to Easy Street.

Make no thing too hard for my comfortable dominance. Enslave all those attempts at maturity and mastery keeping it forever simple that I may find comfort. All hills, valleys and tunnels should be erased, all things made flat. Let all trees be removed and deserts erected that no thing may hide from sight to surprise. Let all things remain mediocre, as the glasses and base colors of our garment that none should stand above or below, equal by elimination. Let talents be equally divided and those gifted given crutch, cane or cast to inhibit movement outside the Bell Curve of normalcy and analytic assumption.

Utopia be my friend in your false eloquence and dimmed lighting. For if Paradise be our sounding then stop Twain’s marking this instant. For their can be no uniqueness in shroud’s mystery nothing beyond ordinary to build or seed hope’s anticipatory ignorance. For bliss be ignorance as it peruses nothing, seeks emptiness and marches sullen away from content rich living. This is not paradise to be separate from God Almighty, lacking; light, life and the powers of creation yet to those who live in the empowered imaginary deception it is the foundation of any desire at resistance to God and all things real.

Give me not the trials leading to purity, strength and delight for I want the simple, the Cro-Magnon and the tame aspects of cruelty, hunger and dominance. Let me live a life of imaginary devices, destinations and declaration of my own glory. For in the affect of life’s pressure I am revealed. I find only shame in my unmaking at the testing of Life’s Crucible. In to the furnace you shall go to stand hand in hand with Maker while I repose on the comforts of temporary existence, finding peace outside peculiarity in the land of all that is known.

Nothing is definitive until the World knows your stand. There is no accountability rationally assumed, no line’s drawn nor assail given until one’s own personal acknowledgement of a position’s inclusion. If you don’t declare Christ here then He has no option but to deny you in Heaven. For in your failure to declare your adoption by His Holy Family you have excluded yourself, sold your birthright for a bowl of stew.

Do seek to evade capture, persecution or parade in your silence regarding Christ. Be very careful right now because you are in so doing for you are concomitantly eschewing the blessings included therein. For there is nothing gained in silence only lost. This world will see your deeds as you walk with Him, demons see the Holy Spirit upon you. Therefore to be abiding in Christ provides no camouflage or absolute protection against Heavenly, Worldly or Hadean Alignment. It is the Spirit living within our hearts that gives us Sovereign Defense and Offensive Fire Power to repel or chase any of those enemy elements.

If you will not declare Jesus as King Here then you will quench the Holy Spirit at each opportunity to see Him arise in defense, protection or blessing. Don’t think that hiding is ever an option in Christianity unless hidden by God under His Mighty Wings and Shadow. People who have falsely or oddly accepted Christ through silent Prayer yet never stepped forward into His Hand of Discipline to be chastised by His Merciful hand of sanctification are simply seeking the get out of hell card for free to return to their well worn seat upon humanity’s fence or sideline bench. There are no watchers in the Kingdom of Heaven only doers and obstacles. Upon which side of the fence have you proclaimed your stake? For there is coming a time and may already have arrived where the fence upon which you have so comfortably watched the game is now found to be on enemy territory.

Declare a side. Preach, teach and abide obediently in His Word and be His disciples indeed or be included as minions of the fallen by your silence, inaction and fence sitting reluctance. In Jesus Name may You Know Him and may this World and all the Fallen Publicly acknowledge that You Belong to God, in Jesus Name. Eschew the Stew. Declare your Birthright.

From the comfortable arm chair of my own imaginary kingdom posting pronouncements of my little tried theories and lesser known exploits, testing access to a playing field to which I hold no membership. You are free of my predilections, my posturing and my permissible prognostication for none holds bearing or the gravity of impending stoning for prophecy misspoken. In the miniscule stretches of my inkling I see a way forward customary to my own damaged interests and have no right, power or authority to demand the moments you would lend for absurdity. Conquerors are written about not sidelined for greater acts of reason.

Nonetheless, those things to which Spirit made me privy you must now acquiesce their occurrence in the sequence of concrete events upon which they were projected. I do not for a moment take credit, pleasure or history’s measure in my own sacrifice, conquest or accolade but would desperately and repeatedly point you to worship of God for having given me any measure of sanity, proselytizing or correct prediction. This is His story certainly my attempts at increasing the silhouette or profile of my character are vain attempt at best. If the Spirit is correct then align with His Power, authority and Direction especially if that requires ignoring me to do so. Heralds are oft forgotten when the declarations they’ve made are found to be correct and timely.

What then is the treasure of this service? What outcome or profit do I venture to lay this current timeline in review? Well that is a suspect conversation that apparently reflects a fair bit of sacrifice on the herald’s half, for it is done by direction, surrender and a recognized love for the good of God’s Will and the benefit of every man who heeds them. Does the preacher matter or the Word to which he convicts you? Does the herald determine the outcome of scenes, battles or debate? Does the servant stand before the master when reward for His Glory are measured and worship properly given Him? Well No. It is with distinct pleasure in sight of spiritual understanding that a believer partakes any action for it is recognition of Faith in any measure acquainting by nature with the King who sent him.

Is it small measure to report honestly to Holy Throne room with testimony regarding those talents which were given having been multiplied in obedience? What then of shepherding having dedicated fearless attempt and teaching to keep the sheep upright, fed and readied for the departure at Master’s behest. What then the small sacrifices associated with loss of status, reputation, treasure or time investing all to see the prophet’s righteous? Have we to believe that all we have done is for naught? This position reflects damaged thinking at outset, for none could have been pursued had not the gift firmly received. Spiritual understanding demands the payment made in redemption from slavery, inclusion in Monarch’s Family and cleansing to befit eternity. Treasures none greater in this world or any dimension have been bestowed to servant in demonstration of belief.

Raspy palm upon rose-hewn cheek. A gentle nudge, lips brushing the thickly calloused fingertips where prints had been worn absent. A brush run through the curly locks his hand gently parted the tangles, impossibly cupping the base of her neck, in warmth, strength and value. These are not the challenges of slave master but one familiar to work and war knowing that which remains precious to those who have lost everything. Eyes too learned of those which seek to conquer find hope, love and kindness from unlikely benefactor. In triage and timely moment peace and wonder meet in restoration.

Sacrificed for reasons imagined whispers. Innocence found plenty must this day be acquainted with the world’s consuming carnage. Yet, protected behind defenses too large for most to ponder, shadow given, shelter and promise of one more day outside the merciless crucible. Still, fashioned for the ideas of God and made too fragile for those of this dimension. Hope, existence of self control not oft found in wide supply, giving birth to need for Lord Protector. A ghastly man when challenged by those who want his blood or honor, innocent few are lent the will and might of men who serve honor and glory.

Words, none spoken yet chapters written in the passage of pregnant moments in understanding and promise. So few, hearts beating to accommodate the oaths that we have taken, not distant lands we hoped in meeting. These youths must make it to fortress in promise and grace purchased. For now the sword and spear hand draped across her shoulder the only reason to counsel success in this proud venture. For absent one man willing to forgo evil we find all innocence consumed for the pleasures of impure measure. In this thing done would God’s validation given find that heart no longer present for tasks befitting midnight?

Of shadow’s known and goblins hobbled to meet the road a man has risen. With unknown past and likely domineering spirit yet found the fancy of butterflies yet frozen. To look upon this pure, saved soul with market perception of precious flight and fancy, surpassing ashen heart and hardened character unwilling to protect the vulnerable. These blazing eyes of horizons captured look beyond the curve of land’s fall to heaven’s waiting Gate. And in so choosing then give succor and solace to the precious lot of Lord, found treasures greater than the booty of war or profit. In her beauty she had saved him not by quest or purpose but by simple reminder of those things outside the ravage and appetite of man’s self service.

Internal wrestling, the breed a sponsor to the inclinations beyond manifest made transparent. Indoctrination to limitation when none avow, is categorically exchange of power, potency and authority beyond the realm of reason. Trans Gaelic inspiration as the first strokes leading power to understanding and mistakes unattributed to man’s early function, but a pressing mindset pent on circumventing the Sovereign. Simple attraction or magnetism so dominates the hunger, passion and siren’s call that the breed was not born to do ill but was fed the lesion which became cancer’s mutant gene.

Riddles effort begets vain extrusion and projection upon all that may be coveted or held. Leaning into the wind man found restraint and wondered why its mastery escapes him, having been meant for dominance and subduing. What glory’s were given or withheld having been mindful of predetermined failure? It is implausible that having known the ready access to immortality’s fruit that wisdom would be primary fruit. The inclination to listen to alternate ideal is the seed of evil within man’s head and heart. The desire to find a way around the testing by answer, secret and riddle’s mastery.

What agony the pursuits of Thieves and Brigands? Portrayed as somehow heroic to convince men that the clever are to be envied. Stealing the joy from men who in their quest for short roads and paths born to mystery’s lose the long, steady wealth and accolade of roots sunken deeply. Reconcile this ignorance with eternity, for by nature their is not short cut to or through everlasting. The joy found in taking ones time having been given infinity in mastery. Why rush what is by nature Forever. What mystery or secret path is better than eternality? The short legs and long fingers of those discontent with Divine gifting, do not seek delivery to immortality but rather the absence of God’s control throughout the ages unending.

How then will service ever fill them? They seek to serve none but self and yet call gods those who will eventually consume them, as they are born of actualization through conquest and deception. A travesty of drawn lots and poorly handled question. For in forsaking truth they find nothing but a game of lies, some told others some bought as foundation to personal proofing. There have always been two paths. We know the length, difficulty and personal service in everlasting hope that leads eventually to King’s Reign in Glory. We believe that we have properly surmised the ending at broad entry, yet none have lived to tell of everlasting life born in Dominion’s Deception. For none have yet to reach that acceptable and common end, as it lay beyond millennium’s judgment in a King’s 2nd Coming. Should we not question evidence given by them who have not seen their everlasting nor may demonstrate dimension outside God’s Creation?

Looking at the Midnight Moon as the wind called out my name. Thought about all the things I’ve done for money, love and fame. Shaking off the cold of night moving closer to the fire. Mated owls above my head watched me from the Wire.

Now Wisdom it evades me and caution’s not my way. You said that you didn’t love me and there was nothing more to say. Leaving just seemed natural it’s what I’ve always done. I’ve spent my lifetime wandering as if I was on the run.

Nothing has been chasing me except this painful thought. Somehow the love between us had been my final shot. Alone by elimination they’d fallen one by one. Struck them down in infancy before the best parts had begun.

The freedom that rewards me was just another jail. With bars, bad food and loneliness the trophies of the trail. Sanctified by trials that appear to never end. Never got the changes as my broken heart refused to bend.

I may say that I’m so much better off being on that ridge alone, but its just another lie to tell myself as Winter chills me to the bone. Better off without her my smile would be bright, with the moon so full above me, my frown is darker than the night. Stop holding it together with glue made up of lies. Don’t you know in most love story’s the loner always cries.

In its perpetual form, grateful is a becoming. It is reflected in its momentary counterpart by a remembrance or acknowledgement to the thanks offered for a thing received. To become immortally thankful requires a power source other than the mortal box checking of human ritual. True grace in gratitude is living inseparable from the source of blessing. Like happiness everything encountered in man’s pursuit is reflection of that which IS immortal, everlasting, pure and unresolved. To be filled with Joy is to acknowledge in existence those things which remain beyond us, outside time that make us continuous in our reflection of God.

I am grateful for you. It requires nothing of you, demands no changes, no masks, no thespian attempts at appearing closer to a litany or list of requirements to receive attention or adoration. Akin to appreciating a burr or gadfly under ones posterior, prompting, agitating, demanding transformation, gratefulness acknowledges the potency and promise of living, not simply the blessing bestowed in comfort, prestige or power. What makes mortality fleeting but the time aspect associated with its conduct? It is time a construct outside ourselves that controls, permeates and commands certain performance, certain reflection upon the limits of temporary existence. In treating time as enemy we are defining our position in gratitude as temporal or everlasting.

When I show, demonstrate or emit a feeling and evidence of gratitude I live in communion with those things around me as necessary to a schema of which I am only partially privy. Appreciation and thankfulness of life requires that I meet it not in projection upon it rather conversely in its expectations of the man I have been created to become. I may clumsily clomp through life as trogladyte or troll or I may realize the complex relationship to all things as cast of grand demonstration of God’s infinite power to create and orchestrate every possible outcome to converge on the one of His Choosing. To admit my role in the temporary is to acknowledge my possible inclusion in the eternal. Without gratitude in this recognition I am destined to remain a mortal player in this dimensional cinema.

AM I or I AM is communitive. In declaring my inclusion in the Master’s outcomes I find the ticket to that showing. Viewing this breath of life as itself that for which to be continually prayerful. Gratitude is not a choice but a logical declaration of maturity. Realizing that there is no perpetual system without a thought which perceived that miraculous venture is the spark and kindling of Wisdom’s first arrival. We are the product of a thought and then the merciless will to launch its birth in a reality completely dependent upon the mind which first perceived in possibility. Acknowledging that mind and our union within it is the same as taking my next breath. We are inseparable for we are.

May this day never end in its capacity to demonstrate you inclusion in everlasting. May God’s Joy be your eternal Strength and may you begin to become that which surpasses the limiting hands of time. May its ticking become a cadence and the music of your casting in Life without end. In Jesus’ Name before Alpha and beyond Omega.