Wooden heart and stone for blood swept by winds a toll to pay. Chasing dreams after midnight is a careful and solemn pursuit. At some broad age, self-inflective, we fail to see the value in stepping into the same old sodden hole where waters rush in drowning swollen toes. Blunting the beaks of birds pent on pecking clean every seed or nut presented. A quiet sort of morning, no happiness or worth accounted in decisions rarely considered.

A life time of departure and waiting upon a clock that never chimes and often leaves throats parched. Preparations made, grounds tended, sights aligned only to count our parties tardy on arrival. Nothing sure, winds change and some parcels too laden with burdens in packaging must be separated into broader baskets. Care for the most part is a gift of service for nothing other than the brief sharing of rye smile, wink and fond remembering.

Never been in charge, wouldn’t know what to do if required to guide someone’s deepest thinking. Roads, made to shape the legs and heart must be taken at the behest and motivation of the individual. Oft times it remains the seasoned professional will watch and blink when shot rolls into the rough, knowing each time a colleague is forced to reason the unlikely. Then to encourage not in form or fashion but simply having listened and recorded.

There is a reckoning of sorts for each man in passing. Having haphazardly or precisely chosen paths upon which to venture. The words choppy in reflection the waters frighteningly swift for timely departure. All things remind us that there is a common theme and efforts toward an ending. If we are attentive and our efforts aligned toward objective restoration the building is sound and stands against all weather. One footfall the tool for all achievement.

How important the start, launch or beginning. For timely race must be made when destination wanted. Most may take all due time if purpose is unsettled, but when mission critical and assignment both are certain. Then each step may be the determining factor in failure, fault or festivity. What shall be celebrated by chance when careful planning the only path to the impossible plateau or peak sought not in folly but intention, heart and purchase?

Look right through the window of me. No substance, curse or repository of wisdom. Simply an incandescent pylon bending and bearing the lights that shine through the prism leading viewers to focus upon that which resides beyond.

Is this escape or dungeon to not be seen by those in passing? This is greatest form of being alone when failing the recognition of the body that surrounds. Almost as if set in another dimension where touch, sound and hearing are restricted to like wave forms.

Looking past the plight of understanding. What are miracles but power and energy beyond the temporal significance. This mount upon which we stand is neither mapped nor present in the world of men, but set apart for worship, fellowship and presence.

Any pain found in my own clutching hand and heart. Holding fast to the things I no longer possess in focused ambition. This freedom is a hard lesson but the promise of rewards beyond my mortal thinking. Finding passages unlabeled in the darkness.

I cannot know the mind of God though he stands before me. Is this the shared suffering of living a life that has already expired? Is this measure of separation the greatest gift given unto the living that they may reside outside the worried world and give great love from beyond?

Accepting simply the walk in promise of ignorance’s removal. Predestination for adoption into inheritance I barely comprehend. All the wonders of an imagination yet to receive the base componentry of allegria found in joyful recognition of the place I have arrived.

Dare to dream. Let go the pain. Remember belief and recognition is where relationship with God begins. No more left to fate but resting in promise. My duty to admit and understand that which remains beyond the cusp of my weakened capture.

My heart would write of justice and polite concern by all men one for another. Alas, the dreams of men who would be content in nonexistent peace is a daft and lawless order. Once seeing our reflection yet turning away and forgetting our identity leaves us bereft of confident application. If I know the thing that is right yet have neither the charisma nor constitution to sponsor it materialization of what power may I claim my wisdom?

We yearn for the things seen in the blessed hands of other men and cannot look asunder. Ill content with the scarcity and poverty of my own failed grace I must spin and disrupt the healthy lives of those who have surrendered before their maker or their fate. I have enough, but is that enough quite enough to stem the lusts for more? How do I pretend around the innocent that I do not wish to consume for personal moments of happiness all they are given?

What horrific saga plays nightly in the minds of men that they cannot simply observe a thing a innocence or beauty without the ensuing moments of washing it down with an aperitif having finely crunched it to prattle in our ravenous jaw? Must every butterfly entering vision be stomped, crush or pounded into oblivion? What then the loving mirrors of mankind in love? Are music, dance and laughter implausible?

Oh, that I have forgotten all those things which were taught to be somehow socially acceptable, lost in the rubble of lives broken, tossed away or swallowed by the greed within our bodice. The smell closer to my heart repels and rebukes our understanding and self-observance. For all my magical or gleefully accounted acts of noble and fine intent, the revelation of my self is putrid as the open can of garbage.

It would not be that bad if it were only my heart infected, but it is the collective heart of man that disturbs me so. We posture and pester believing ourselves worthy yet in a moment of reflection reality reveals the malcontent and infectious disease that still infects our human heart and understanding. Until the innocent are inviolate and protected with ample mercy then the putridity persists, but we seek to do first and then analyze. How brilliant the possibility to think before we act?

Regardless of large hands and small controls there is no shame in losing one’s way on the way to finding it. Stepped back into the comforting shadow of my inspiration, surrounded by dwarfing giants, rhetoric beyond the audience and calculations too long to measure. This is the place of journey’s middle, foot kicked up on a stump, freshly buttered biscuit from the cast iron smoking as it asks the fire for more.

Dirt on everything, running water thirty feet away, but now is the time to sit and enjoy the season for no other reason than it is good to find rest in deep or empty thought. Greens and browns of woodland man I would assume that to most but the squirrels and fawns I blend. Birds chirp and casually sort through the assorted handful of seeds and nuts I tossed their direction. What is good you know it right away.

The evil does not consume my time. The pain that they leave in their wake captures my attention. For this is a walk of health and scars, leaving the tar and feathering to angry folks and wrapping the broken hearts, wounded memories and showing love as the answer to all communication difficulties. Sitting alone is good but barely kicks the meter when compared to the emotions and trying times spent with humans and dogs.

These are the winds of the Winter’s passage. A Spring awaits so cool and clean we may drink it down to slake our burning thirst for peace. Passion’s hope is that we are ambitious about anything noble. No more, it’s all about me. These are the days and years where Men find purpose and resolve even unto passing. That is the course of worthy outcome. To be measured not by successes but by diligent, perhaps relentless resistance against the dark, Knowing the Light of the World has come.

Considering the joy of pain the greatest gain as the blood stain in suffering beside Christ our Savior. No reason to relinquish joy or somehow find annoyance in the sponsor of change. The Law and the ghastly realization of our internal poison the moment we found prompting to cry out for mercy, hope and transformation. Thank you Lord for the betrayors, haters, liars, judges and thieves. I am overwhelmed to think of them in mercy and gratitude as the pain they have brought me shook me spiritually awake, that I am once again seeking rightness with You.

Everyone asks bemoaning the pain and challenge of their lives. Compassion flows for their challenges, loss and my love surrounds them in the prayers I offer Father, in Jesus’ name. However, they should count themselves fortunate at least and victors at best for receiving the greatest motivational asset for which it is clear this world was designed. Without hurt, we are simply dirt hoping and pursuing contentment and comfort that is scantly available and rarely found at length. The true blessing of this life is to experience the blessing of transformation, sanctification and eventual extraction to gather with the King among all that Truly belongs to Him.

I hope for you, but I also see how your thoughts and idle pursuits are challenged by the road you have chosen. Ought I pray for comfort, perhaps but the love in my heart demands the recognition that this self inflicted set of challenges will perhaps waken you to the whispers of God’s Will for this life and the next. So, I am sorry for not showing you the grace in my joyous acceptance of the obstacles, challenges, temptations and revival found within my struggle. The mercy is that I get to struggle at all and be associated with Christ Jesus in that awareness, recognition and continuing rebirth to something beyond the limitations of the man who knew only the end of this world. You were the exact false hope I needed to see in my awakening that I had been seeking one in the first place.

Real Love knows no end, it does not quit, it does not have expectations that remain unsaid it simply seeks to serve, comfort, enjoy and rejoice. I am glad that the words were somehow haunting me in the revelation that real love is never shown in word but in walk. Men, love is given without expectation of return, a wife must find it in her heart to want to help not be forced to offer or produce that which she would not have freely given. Ladies, satan waits for you on the other side of the fence offering the false hope and greenery of this world as you judge your man inadequate for the marriage he vowed to sustain. We better get much smarter and quick because we keep repeating the same mistakes men and women have made for thousands of years outside the garden.

I will never match someone’s expectations of me. I will try my hardest and continually fail to match God’s Word for my identity, but that doesn’t disqualify me from real love. In fact, God loved me so much at my worst moments that He died for me. Yes, I want to be what He seeks for me, but I must acknowledge and adhere to the auspice of real love in that it doesn’t demand you meet criteria, measure up or follow an agenda of perfection. In fact, the pain is a recognition that God is already fully engaged in the process of my being set apart for Him. He is changing me and if that is not sufficient for Brother, Woman, Mother, Son or chief then it is my job to love myself enough to step away and let that person seek the match for their projections in grateful thanks for the pain that shapes me so well and wishes that you find whatever matches those yearning desires you have yet to meet. In Jesus’ Name. Thank You Lord for the pain that cauterizes my wounds into scars. Just like Yours. Amen.

All the promises of this world end up with the same result, fulfillment in short duration and stature here while sidelining, neglecting focus on the eternal. No object, thing or promise here is consistent with the Promises of God if its outcome matches and completes that which is meant to fulfill my happiness here.

Joy is not a thing of the flesh. It only knows happiness, even in instances where we fulfill our deepest wishes. For example, I may live a life with family, job, works or wishes, all completely met and achieved if they are inconsistent with the reasons for which God continues to keep a believer here.

Jesus came to divide humanity, those who continue in the drum beat of the world and those who want all that it offers, no matter how brief. I have known the happiness of the world, the collection of things, situations and location only to be left in the same deep sorrow of not knowing Jesus or bringing His Gospel of love to the world for which He died.

Take for example a relationship lived for the principle of peace and comfort with the King or Queen of our choosing. Does it truly flourish without the blessing of God’s Hand upon it. Let’s say a couple join together for the intention of having children, then spend their entire lives struggling to provide for that family, all the while neglecting to teach the children God’s law. How does that prosper us in God’s economy? How does it serve the King?

Perhaps take a look at religion. Joining a group, organization or good works venture. Does that assure that God’s Will is done with the efforts and gifts of the team? What if the doctrine develops rituals and policies that clearly contradict God’s Word or practices that seek solace in science? What does the departure from the Perfect Doctrine of Christ’s Love deliver for woman or man when the clock stops ticking. The simple controlling factor of life is that we don’t know how much of it we are given.

For my entire life the Church as an organization has struggled. Not in making money or bringing in recruits, but in following the Head of the Church in word, thought and deed. We have built businesses, fellowship organizations and charity groups that by business results are quite productive. However we don’t teach about the essentials of being born again and the pivotal importance of the Holy Spirit, without whom we do not have eternal life.

It must be flipped right side up. We must take jobs, enter into vows and own what God wants us to use for the Good of ushering in His Kingdom. This will immediately be challenged, ignored or laughed at by those who are not serious believers in Christ Jesus. Question: Do you think He died for us so that we can simply continue in our previous lives? Or even worse sell ourselves or purchase the lie being fed by prosperity doctrine or replacement theology in direct violation to God’s Law.

No we see those who are walking the broad boulevard that leads directly to hell and separation from God. Why then do we continue on the broad boulevard along with the Earth Dwellers to whom God promises Wrath? What deception is that powerful, what foolishness that tasty, what idea so promising that it outweighs salvation, rebirth, forgiveness and everlasting Life with the Living God? It doesn’t. Then why do anything that is not Spirit led?

For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? Mark 8:36

I miss all of you when you choose to go away, some more than others but all are remembered fondly and regularly. However, I cannot make the decisions in relationships, that requires two and when you’ve made your decisions in love I truly want to give you what you’ve demanded or requested. For that is love, the free will to choose your own road and who will accompany you upon it. God willing He provides the right companions, mates and enemies that you arrive exactly where and when He wants you.

That this is a common occurrence requires my own investigation, especially after the harsh things that have been claimed by those in parting. Going before God in humility, hope and clarity is the greatest gift I have been given. Assurance in character and in deed may only be found in transparency sitting before the Throne of God. I always see, admit, accept and expect God’s hand of transformation upon me following each descendance or parting. After the interaction though not ending or passing the way I would have liked has been meant for both our reflection, conviction and growth.

If my enemies are provided for my sanctification as I pray for them in love, how much more those of Grace will provide for my edification, even in loss. Man I wish sometimes that I had those perfect skills and words to share at just the right time as you demanded. But I think it is the commitment to face life together regardless the clashes, dashes, dots, yods and tittles that defines true love. So, in some manner I am glad that those who leave have done so. Though it is a nice dream to see relationships work out the way we would want them, it is a far better thing to feel the Hand of God upon each of our spirits as we each pursue the doctrine of perfection we could never find alone.

Do I miss you yes? Do I want for you the desires of your heart yes? Am I the partner, friend, Pastor or Brother to walk with you in each fire, together till we reach out mutual end? These are not questions I may answer myself. However, the greatest danger in choosing my own road has always been that I have not listened or obeyed the command of God. By nature I will invariably first contemplate the easiest path, but always end up on the hard road that leads to greater maturity, growth and spiritual refinement. That being said it is impossible for me to see that the difficult road and interaction both of us experienced, the truth with which I clung in pursuance of God’s Purpose and the Love with which I fondly release you are all the same dedication to objective love. You are not what I want you to be but what you are and are becoming which I adore. Letting you go is a pleasure not a curse.

What a wonderful place to be tried and focused. To see those things in cupboards, garage and kitchen that fester or foster growth and imagination. Such splendid array of troublesome works. Finding everything so attractive until bought, bartered or clutched. Aspiration, generation, imagination all so nonchalant, dangerous and refining, in the fires, caldrons and chemical reactions when put in contact with life or the misery and longing for release from limitations.

How promising the ideas in our heads when we first set upon the road of immaculate conceptions. Everything so pure and perfect till tried and tested in the bare knuckle brawling of the climb to mountain’s top. Wavering yet never ready to simply step away from the caustic, charismatic or promising. Locks picked, gasps given at horizons without end and sweet, sorrowful ballads in measured delivery when hearts, broken fail to find the luster.

It’s skylines, caverns, shallows, swallows and vales, scented of lilac, palm and pine. Refining by nature, especially when drawn or cornered into stints of loneliness, longing or prideful stand for reasons unknown or inexplicable. Searching for the promises of a first kiss, scent memories or the inkling of something rarely discovered. Matching day dream and dalliance we fall, reluctantly knowing in advance that the challenge brings the mastery.

Nothing sure but more often the same though something else beckons. Washed clean in the winds, erosion and pressures of the forgery. Made new when clinging to familiar. Hoping for the ready, steady and knowable yet realizing the promise of wisdom, passion and experience. No heart is changed by simplicity, but in difficulty and disappointed reason sponsors gifting. Learning to love in a way that we have never chosen, crafted or pursued.

What dance in pants too long for whirling? What dreams without the moral character of man or woman born to something good? Do the guilty lose their regret and displeasure replacing the hard, cold and callous sense of defeat for the things they just cant muster? Into the abyss we wander senseless, tempting the edge and prancing foolish against the overwhelming clutch of gravity and utter destruction. Only to step back with a gasp, flustered and excited by the moment of life’s testing.

Looking past the clouds, darkness and even the blinding sun, knowing something beyond the veil of my existence. What purple or pink blossoms are found the other side of midnight? What light reveals but the shadows and episodic blackness of our damaged journey. Surrendered to be replenished in the graceful fall of yonder ripples. Face down in mud or frozen splendor, rising to the joy and shame of challenged doubt. Paralysis broken by shear unplanned action.

Knowing that whether thrashing worry and defeat be breakfast, the salty dogs of afternoon shall follow. Leaving beside the roadside always humbling, gravely and arduous intent or hopeful wishing the smooth chaser of silky, solemn indifference and polite consideration. These are the days of becoming for which they prepared me. Not easy, never boring or contrite, but something akin to the Earth so deep for planting or foundation. Erected in error to the sun or fortified to withstand the driving rain and winter’s chill.

I desire to shout a word that no one else has ever heard. The word of heart and intent of man that has very little with God’s Plan. To tell you how you have erred by running scared as anger flared. But hope in word is never found as hunter seldom seeks the hound.

The things I want matter little as I sit alone opine and fiddle. The absence of the heart of want its best to take the base by bunt. As mysteries of God append the knowledge of which men offend. Flesh will rule when given ear to drink red wine and run in fear.

Until God’s Spirit the only Word we hear forgotten mine, please hold my beer. For my want is will that I and me hold dear. Each episode a faithless smear. So, run and stand upon your pride, keeping faith to fear inside. The precipice so deep and wide we thought to jump.

In Christ confide. The only way to heaven’s gate, whether way too early or much too late. Fashioned free from voice of self so few the words that rhyme with elf. Small the man of appetite who thinks he has rightly joined the fight. The light has won and it is done.

Built of Trust and Hope. Courage that often fades in the sight of dominance. It must reside in our hearts and force action in our minds prone to paralysis in face of the overwhelming. We are not the simple sort who lay down, shy or run from the shadow of darkness approaching. These are the days of Princes and Priestesses, standing in prayer and council, sealed in the Spirit of the Almighty. Certainly tasting fear, but then biting hard upon pouting lip to spit the seeds of cowardice upon the graven Earth of heathen gods.

Rough hands that sifted the sands, rocks and dirt of time trying to build something in this frail, torn world. Digging deeply to build upon the Rock of Ages that what is left may face time undaunted, ready for the storms of sand, wind and waters. Men were made in the image of God, The Father in Loving Sovereign Authority outside the effects of the creation that adores, fears or disobeys. The Son, Sacrificial with a heart for man but an iron rod to shepherd all creation to surround. The Spirit, the comforting, convicting, faithful testimony of Truth that seals men for eternity and defeated death raising our High Priest from the Grave.

I am sorry that I mourn for you. Perhaps the love I have given or spared was shared knowledge that we must be ready even in our greatest moments of compassion and reserve. We may not hope upon ourselves when we face odds greater than our heart and hand. We must unite around the glorious faith of God and His promise basing our courage upon something that has already overcome all that we now are facing. Stand not with trust in self, romance, storm or money, but in the Loving God who chose to breathe life into each of us that at some point we may discover the choice of everlasting life, peeling back the mysterious which confront all men.

In my failure I do not rage, nor seek excuse. I look forward, not the gardens of my own working but the those miracles that may touch each of us as we accept our work as vessels of God’s Perfect will for this world and the hereafter. This is the time when we must have already made choice or be swept up by the wind and wills surrounding and screaming that all should afraid. Afraid of what I say? What shall we fear in understanding that God’s Plan emerges on the plains before our mistrust and absent hope? We cannot find hope without knowing God for He is that trust, that thing beyond ourselves that surpasses this world caught in its own desired entropy.

Color as you will the hues, shapes and perspective with which you see the world. I will neither warn nor criticize as we all need to paint the story in our own version. But mine has all been painted, not yet revealed but none the less colorful or resolute and real. For the canvass I view I am color smeared upon it in the deftly crafted vision of God Himself. This is his picture and removes from me the need for concern, worry or expectation. This is not my imagination but one far greater than I could ever display or portray. This is from the mind and eye of God and frankly I don’t really know all that is coming, but I want it. There is no single thing for which I hope more than to see you make the same decision, waiting upon God to reveal His masterpiece and trust Him as He does.