Their dreams are shattered their constitution and spirit weak. Who may profit from their loss, be made strong in their fear or stand tall while they are frightened and alone? This is no allegiance to the dawn and light. To prance about in self-adoration while the young go hungry, fearful and downtrodden in body, mind and image. When did we take on this polymorphism unaccustomed to God’s reflection? What day sponsored this contempt and challenged heart? How wrongly you believe in the value of scarcity or the norm in hate of plenty. Do you hate trees because there are so many or burn them, cut them down for fun since they are in abundance? Why then are children so reprehensible in their multitude? To sacrifice them on your unholy pyres for the sake of trading them for aspired gold?

Do you esteem to destroy that for which you have little desire or use? What of dogs, donkeys or daylight? What happens when they fall astray of your lustful valuation? What of men who counsel wisdom or make the rabid mistake of speaking truth to your willing illness? Is your universe so terse or insecure that nothing may breathe air unless conforming to your limitations of size shape and worth? Do you think that God may take offense to your candid distaste for the things He gave when He spoke the Word of Creation? What of my mimicry when considering your discontent with the world that neither of us brought into being? Am I to rid the world of your brief interaction with the living because I find no value in your brief struggle? Or is it that everything is deemed of worthy purpose by being an asset or a liability in your finding or quality of need?

What then of tales of valiant humans? Those who fought simply that life may bring glory to God for as long and however they may reflect His measure? Do you fight for the princes and dukes of darkness? Or have you become an engine that seeks fuel source, void of conscience or conviction in the taking? Diminishing the beautiful, innocent or rare to how long they will burn when put to flame, the consuming madness of your unfiltered lust for self-existence? Yes, that is your affinity with the things of dark dungeons and high fells and groves of the ungodly. All things are viewed as matter to consume, catalysts to activate change conducive to your appetite. I applaud the simplicity in your vapid recourse but pity you as we pass bye flowers, are filled with joy in song or mercy and kindness of the living. For I too have lived solely for my hunger. It is a frightful and boring pursuit. For I knew no love, contentment or preserved the things of heart simply because they encouraged others.

There is a song to life that all are made better knowing. There is a dream to collective drive that bids us work in unison to launch. There is a norm of heart and mettle that feeds the flames of protection in innocence and charm. Those days when breath is brief and peace in short supply yet we gather with those unworthy to enable their existence. Just because they came from the Mind and Love of God. To see and trust our journey you must remember the things you’ve lost in the assaults of mankind upon all youth. You must recall the day when you wanted to please your Mom or Dad, just because they were the closest representation of our maker. However, the church, this world or people have failed you is no recourse to define them as wood for fire or life to be consumed in the ravages of your lust to consume. For you to decide their fate when they belong to God will end in a final conflict or your losing. Where you will have fulfilled the irony of purpose and decide to live the life of predetermination of those who were made to feed the maw of Gehenna’s unending flame.

At once. To the molten light meant for you alone. There is no desperation in sound thinking. No willing praise to darkened hearts. Finishing has always been the only objective. Not even doing quite well the spice. There is time upon us all. A compelling offering of opportunity. This is not a trophy shop. The lure of easy money and praise tests each of us. Often it is what you do not do that defines you.

Winnowed hearts refusing to look back upon the world when beckoned to God by angels in salt’s freedom. Where to now my kind friend? No snare or captive bait. No freedom but the will to do otherwise. Pretty things upon the hallway shelves all basking in the light of eye’s hunger. Not a journey made easily alone in memory of the cave of lions in quiet mouths. For these are men who will turn your worth away.

Forsaking the will of a wounded faith. No doubts for this ground may not be held by bandaged feet. For lions roam seeking our mastery, craving our core. Safety is not a place or measure of mendacity. Deep, roots, planted at the edge of river’s source. Fruit replenished at the well of springs. Walking the road of days yet mired in pollution of man. We proudly speak of nothing and find hope in our peace.

The World Calls. Not a cry of promised slumber, rather the shiny appealing indentured slavery to things and bells and lights. It is not enough to turn away. We must simply make a decision to not want any of it, instead turning to the hope of unknown promises of God. Realized that the things beyond Dominion, those wonders beyond the imagination possess limitless appeal to a man or woman seeking wonder. I am awe stricken by God and I am sorry none of this compares because He made all of this. What comes next for me.

Birds in trees idolized by the spreading wind humming along in concert. Dawdling in the noonday shade, whiling away time as if was never scarce. Too many reasons not to push the gas, too many doubts to dawn this armor, too many unspoken fears and what ifs or whys. We came to dance but we never learned the steps because we were really meant to be at the parade. The only thing we hope for is a partner who is understanding in retreat.

What light calls my name? What wind seems to lure me onward? What sun compels my heart in darkness? Way too simple to pretend I am anything other than the cowhand I was always intended. I cannot farm the lilac or contend in sonnet with time of seven eight. Too far from proud, with bent back, broken spirit and worn out excuses I simply don’t have the energy to act if acting were my gifting. Slinking back into the frozen tundra, hidden in the tans and whites of winter.

Two bits and a name written on a folded bond. Pushing carts of the in-useful to a place where I may watch over it for fortnight. Longing to be free of this quest to speak in a base tone that makes me believable. It is okay to fail myself, but there is no way to fail God, for He shall provide where I am short, of poor character, treasure or stature. The only prayer is that as I mess things up entirely He turns all things to good and makes a way to bring Glory to His Name. I only pray now that I am forgotten in His Honor.

Having lived in moments so specious to remember, the recollection always take the same mold. Too short for sheets, shoes and sandwich. Too broad to reposition. Too lean to live on the gristle. Life should be a resounding, long swell of waves in applause, sanction and gratefulness. The braid of fear and indifference are scissored and sprinkled upon my limited inducement of rousing bravery. For I see the way this is going and I know that somehow God will bid me run onto the field of battle with a raging smile and cantankerous heart. To war we go in pleasure, mustering courage and judgment from my short supply, firm in God’s faithfulness to provide what I have never had.

In Brilliance Father show me the light of those things beyond the closed doors that no one may open. I want to hear your voice clearly in the dawn, midday and dark of dream. Unfolding walls concealing the fields beyond, colored by pageant hues my mind presently may not conceive. May the understanding and perspective focus upon this world be one taken from a parsec away, washed in the light of dwindling suns.

Must I suffer my own ignorance, ignobly for a long season of deprivation? Looking into a lens darkened by the reprobate thinking, absent resolve and logic unavailable to my frailties? May the firing line be clear, targets measured and known and aim certain. Waste dissolved in the appropriate and confident application of gifts, clarity and reason.

Let none pass who do not sense, feel or know your Love through me. May my words be solid in their healing and encouraging nature. May the ground rise to meet my feet as I rush along the skinny path as time seeks entropy toward your renewing ends. Let me support not convince or order. Let me imbue not seek to manipulate. Let me forgive never holding back the soft, quiet reliance upon the beauty of so doing.

To west I go not because the dawn or man’s voice bids me, but as the setting of sun finds its rest. Tomorrow is not a day but an outlook upon unfolding purpose. For in our budding we know the flower arrives in due day and season. When things occur in mystery having been presented not pursued then and only then do my feet feel at home with life. Waiting for the things unknown to be revealed in timing undetermined by catalyst or worry. Finding my way to the foot of the throne in peaceful repose before God’s waiting feet.

Willing disarmament not as cowering dog, but anointed trust in God’s defensive deliverance. Let us not ramble or mesh argument with historical text or philosophical position. For this is context to obfuscate. Faith is not an explanation or quibble. Having heard and believed the Gospel the argument is now moot. Only the tests against that faith apply. Perhaps it may be argued that the arguments themselves are narrow obstacles to solidify established faith. However, the test often deflects from the true test of offering love where doubt and hate reign indifferent to the Grace of God.

The revelation of past concealing, deceptive techniques or hidden truth becomes the period of our maturation in discernment. For unless deception exists the elaborate relationship with Spirit may never show prevalence in authority over all dominion and principality. The enemy serves God as do all things in creation. Therefore the Bible clarifies that the duty of the body is armoring against the power of deception through the fullness, knowledge and relationship with Christ. In conclusion, we choose to see that every situation, especially those replete with deceptive currents of land mines and undertow have been planted for faith’s victorious march toward the hereafter.

But what of the consuming, clarifying and transformative power of God’s Love in Grace? There is no defense against love. There is no power that surpasses the active gift of love in the face of slight, pain or contorted personality. There is no greater attachment to the Divine than through the observance and gratitude for having first loved humanity. The resolute in defeating Sovereignty rush to arms race in hope of somehow surpassing the immutable. May love be stored against armament? What well of the soul may manifest reserve of love to victoriously overcome any immovable object? This is the mystery of the union, rebirth, sanctification and kinship with God.

Why then would a man pursue the greatest hand to hand intelligence when it is the overwhelming, unbeatable power of love that remains the greatest power man’s disposal? There will always be knowledge and wisdom in preparation. We know not what may be confronted around the mountain bends of skinny path. However, the ardent and understandable practice in love is indispensable upon this journey to everlasting. The true application of deception would be to steer men into misdirection of violence and battle prowess rather than the courageously calm resolution to Stand against all that comes in the faith of God’s promise to overcome it all. In Jesus’ name standing is the greatest application of faith, courage and trust.

Not the happy commandant of this faux enterprise. Charlatans are seldom made happy in the revelation of truth. Subject all my works to the fires seen only in the mirror of God’s unbending Will. May those things which remain be gold and gems tested and found true.

My self-pious performance always leaves taste of liver and onion. Bitter, sadness and elite prognostication, outcomes of the foolhardy, believing themselves the best answer divinity may provide. Yet, few have known or even chatted with Almighty. And many simply lied.

A quest to bring about the scripted outcomes of my own pursuit. Offering explanation and submitting supporting characters and candidates to further my resolve. What a shameless way to express freedom and align myself with the Will of God in Heaven. Not my hopes.

For in the departure from the Divine I repeatedly arrive at the sour grapes of my own failed harvest. Please if you see me bid me well, give me hand or advice consistent with returning my rails to track and my words with Holy product. For the things that shall prevail must surpass.

Grateful for the chipping and pressure of this world. So blessed to be tested in the fires of life. There is only one way from here to there. I pray that my feet find that rare path and ne’er depart from it. For though I will a certain end, Jesus Christ alone determines my hereafter.

The humility and disgust I experience in remorse of seeing my sin are the catalyst of my resolve to stay closer to Christ Jesus. Therefore the mirror of the commandments remains essential in the transformation of all men, those seeking Christ for the first to find forgiveness and repair and those desperately relying on faith to keep them firmly on the skinny path to God.

With His Glorious help I will get there, stumbling as I do through the mire of my continued manly attempts to achieve the objectives of my failing flesh. I wish that it were otherwise and that I could demonstrate without mistake the unfailing resolve of my heavenly rebirth, but that would require no mistakes which are essential to this completed pathway.

I weep at my repeated and obvious willingness to fall short of Godly purpose. I tire of myself and find the disgust though clearly integral to the process of sanctification a distasteful guest to my otherwise restful home. Praise God for walking with me, KNOWING that my failures as abhorrent as they have been pivotal in any subsequent or consequential adjustments.

Control although a byproduct of relationship with the Holy Spirit are not my objective or cause. For applying my own controls denies, ignores or avoids the reality that becoming Heavenly in spiritual rebirth is a thing planned, conducted and completed by God alone through Christ alone. Establishing a desire or feeding the same to establish, maintain or rely upon the effects of my own controls upon the world is reluctance to acknowledge the sole Hand that may bring me into heaven.

Out over promontory. Reviewing the revelatory glory of God’s face in all creation. It shines so brightly that I am forced to shade my face. In the cool of midday the future bids respect. Whatsoever comes is neither fated nor separated from choice. Each of us is integral to the reality we face. For the separation comes hereafter, also by choice.

Flower, friend or facing fear. Though seemingly alone we have been left enough room to make decision. Knowing well discernment rooted in wisdom’s hope. Comfortable lodge with smokeless fire and companions. Reminded that freedom erects the light of ferocious living. Appeased by nothing living in the gifted peace of a loving King.

Long time passing summers preparing for the tireless cold. Not so old that love tarnishes the smile on the corners of her eye. Twinkling daydreams and nights free from salty tear. Left alone to reason and plannings moor. The poor evoke the discipline to endure throughout circumstance and find faith in the challenge of captivity.

Inclined to the whispers within my inner ear. Telling the chilling results of scientific indifference. When all things matter the choices as result are perhaps our greatest treasure. When standing at the foot of yonder mountain. One’s prayerful worship brings joy or seasoned longing. All together too soon we are gathered at the summit resolved.

There are times when you put down the sword and shield in gratefulness of realized prayer and peaceful moments. Moments seen too precious to gloss over or run bye. Quiet times before the throne, times where children may breathe the giggled hope of humanity’s protection. We are in the breach, that quietude, the separation from calamity, sadness and driven fear. To rise up and express kindness to all people in freedom and hope of better tomorrow.

Yet, in our solemness we take a long breath of preparation for the remaining trial of man’s endurance. In this calm all things equal we observe our commitment to ceterus parabus and worldly protections or in the Will of God, Almighty. Having been healed enough through the answer to our endearing prayers we may now permanently invest all our breath, force and honor to returning this nation and the world to the rightful and righteous order that alone now allows this moment of peace

How then will you try harder? Especially knowing that all your ardor and contention produced limited if any result? What miracles are born in your heart and power? What lives saved in your worrisome endeavor? What problems solved by your eloquent repose? Is this moment our greatest opportunity to realize and awaken to the fact that we could do nothing but wait upon God? Isn’t it wisdom to return to the source of all blessing and acknowledge His sovereign Grace and Good Will for a mankind that seems perpetual embroiled in struggle?

My Sword and Shield are always at ready. Not because of training, prowess and overwhelming capacity to wage war upon fellow humans. Rather that my protections reside in the Seal of God’s Holy Spirit and His Dominion and dwelling with my heart as His domicile in this dimension. I realize that Jesus defeated all God’s enemies on the cross and that the mere mention of His Word, His Holy Name and His image evident upon me strikes fear and delivers power to those enemies, forced to flee before my courageous stand in Christ.

Into sleep we rest and dream, navigating the spaces separating time and spaces unseen. I fell into hope and it sustained me. Gathered in the roots of time, fostered by thought, all things gelled by realities connected with tether to the eternal places only God could know. Place-marks collected to the hands of time mapping out pastures visible to the men who ventured sideways. Sitting in pools illuminated by the light of freedom we found peace sitting quietly in the rafters.

Questions, so many perspectives and possibility. Unborn for the fear of taking steps that leave us battered or lonely. The foolish, embrace eager moments of shaping the universe into solid paradigm. These are the mind predicaments, the places and moments of horror where reality and dream merge, producing the fears that shape our instance. What remains are those things born of courage or paralysis. What control, white knuckled grip upon the seconds of solemnity.

I released you from the thinking binding you to reason. Chaos once believing itself ruler found fuller sands and hand prints upon the maps of time laid out before our making. Where order made greater sense and realms beyond prediction extended forward. As if where anything had been was circular. And those things East and West were lines of sight captured by emotional need to see them so. Tears and smiles the oars upon the silken waters of life and re creation.

So old and breathless the sigh and tests of mourning. Stretched by the gelatin mass of prayers and walkways frozen by words strewn asunder. The thunderous voice of all that made me useful called me to the foot of something long since planted. Wretched and tarnished, cast into barnacles collected we scraped the metals of man’s longing. Yearning for relief yet never having been tested or gathered by the exceptions of experience.Prostrate before promptings long forgotten. We sought rest as if it were guaranteed all who fought for promise.