Wondrous wish of walking in the garden of contemplation, prayer and hope. It is here that I find comfort, it is here that I remember who I am and that which I am destined to become. No harsh words or requirements upon person, mind or reason. Just the peaceful two-way communication with the origin of my change.

What sheep follows after naught but a place where there be no wind? Into harbors sheltered do schooners dance and rest. This journey is one of abrasion and brief moments of silk and thunder. With this world quiet I am free to see the next. In my aspiration to be king of nothing I kneel upon the cool, clean Earth in ample expectation of connecting with God.

Over these hills and drudging or dancing through valley beyond, my will resists the works of hand, mind and heart. But in these trials I am acquainted with the me that yet is not. Too far for turning asunder, to near to result that the path before me should end. This walk is the reason for my sanctification and ordination. It must be walked for that is resides within me.

And those glorious moments of joy that must also be accomplished. Where this man and the next blend in recipe for everlasting. What mysteries uncovered shall make me rise in splendor. To this mountain upon which I will hope to stand sure-footed. I invite myself in thought or dream or dance. For in this quest to count the footfalls, I am committing to this and life eternal after.

When you loved them how you wanted to they only wanted more. They feared that you were leaving them when you were sitting just outside the door. All their fears and experience taught them not to trust. But when the fuss and fuming clears and all the argument and dust is cleared. There’s no right time for loving them and no rules to get it right. You listen to their dreaming and are quick to end the fight. When it comes down to old brass tacks and dice upon the floor. There’s no right way to love someone except leaving them wanting more.

You listened to Lord our God and how he loved without condition. So you went out to spread His love and they all called it a mission. Work campaigns and raffles have nothing to do with love. But when the Lord directs your heart and you find a good place to start, then you just start caring for people for who they are right now. They can change and most they will but you never think about the bill just thankful to have opportunity to do what God has commanded. There’s no right way to love someone except leaving them wanting more.

All the stories, dreams and focus on how and when and where. When it comes to loving them most folks don’t really care. They size you up and knock you down because they are so afraid. But when the winds blows through and the glass is clear they are just real glad that you stayed. So, I am real glad that He taught me that everyone needs love in and out of season. It really doesn’t matter if it fits like a proper hat and glove. There’s just no right way to love someone except leaving them wanting more.

We are our own worst enemy when it comes to getting what we want. We’re so afraid to swing away that we are out at first on bunt. There’s no way to win or lose but we can certainly make it hard. We’re in such a hurry to get a good hand that throw away each good card. There is a time for plating, for sowing and to reap. But when the fire’s low and the light is bad, and we get to finding a reason to be sad. Our thinking turns to history and the people who we miss but this is when we forget the bliss of someone right here by our side. There’s no right way to love someone except leaving them wanting more.

Leaning in, the updraft supporting my weight against gravity. Shall I fall. I leave that choice to God. I am not leaping from the will He has told me follow. Merely testing the buoyancy of faith as the leap is one born therein. There is no end for my life now. I live for everlasting in Hope of presence before God.

Is there a downside to my lack of sense in risk? This is not a game of chance as much in life, this is set upon a stone, the cornerstone that supports the universe. Why do I believe upon that which I cannot see, listen to the voice of God that I know lives within my heart and have an active relationship with the Sovereign God of the Universe who I may now call Abba, Father? Why Not?

Pursued, chased, imagined, ramified, validated, applauded and found important so much garbage that should never have been entertained or ventured. Planting seeds and tending growth is simple, straight forward and logical. Investment in good people, educating them on the scales in balance makes pure sense when you look upon God’s demonstrative love for all.

I am lighter than a proverbial feather. The burdens once carried upon my back of my own volition and/or ignorance have been removed. I now may feel and see my rest. What man sells or lends himself to the jailer or taskmaster having known even a moment of breathing Free? This is not a choice even worthy of contemplation for backsliding away from salvation makes no common or rarely found sense.

Is it time to join me on this junket? Will you tether your raft or boat to mine as we cross the lake in search of the promises given? Yes, storm, fear and threat shall inevitably show their evil, testing our hearts and spiritual understanding. What shall we see within ourselves and discover what God’s given. A transformation beyond our understanding but not beyond belief.

Are we what we believe we are? Is my character a culmination of how I portray myself or are the cumulative/singular actions I take that which define my identity? What is the reckoning between the real and contrived or narcissistic portrayal of my self-review? Does society provide the scales upon which this disagreement/inconstancy is revealed? And as to correction, what societal or national counsel determines that you are lying about yourself and therefore have a achieved a negative Credibility Score and are deemed untrustworthy?

What happens to a nation when full blown narcissists achieve dominance? Are people forced to simply accept the populous or majority view in power and accept what they know in their hearts to be abhorrent, damaged behavior? How best do people of reason remove from power those candidates prone or known to have this false projection of themselves and the world they’ve created in their vain imaginary declaration of reality? Is this idea completely scientific or have we been told it is the origin of the battle between the collective sides in Man’s thinking?

What happens persay when I reject the reality and insert my own version of truth in subjective attempt to master my world? The Bible says that we are turned over to our own vain imagination, left to our own regard. When we ardently choose this path we are then turned over to our own darkened perception to follow our lusts as a beast set free among vulnerable prey. Thus, in exactness of definition, narcissists and those turned to their own reprobate minds are one and the same. Therefore, society should do everything in its power to ban these people from the voting process and expel those that make it through in their superior thespian chameleon ability to deceive.

What we face today is the battle between those who have rejected God’s definition of creation and asserted their own imagining as the answer to their restriction within God’s Commandments and law. People, however prone to slumber or poor diligence must set up structure within their countries to restrict these people from rising to power. As each time they have done so in history it has ended in Godlessness, tyranny, oddity and departure from all those things associated with good character in man. Once again this is the fight of our times. What side are you on? Either you acknowledge God’s reality or seek to replace it with your own thus being turned to your fiction.

Mythical argent repose. Born of a dream. Made perfect in ambulation. What questions are answered, that were asked by man? The trim, the name, The Word. A bird without wings. Does it too dream of flight?

Touch the edge of tomorrow. In brilliant moments of sight beyond the wall. Semi permeable? Membranes of passage into the DNA of humanity. What then is mark foresworn? Made to stop the blessings of lost judgment.

Did we see them coming? Yonder hill where watchman slept. Trumpets and shouts forthcoming will never be heard till sounded. Into august we pass seeking harvest and rest. While the motors or engines of our rivals consume the plenty and the pure.

These are not the magical whims of the greatest among us. They are the convenient and corrupt conniving’s of those lesser seeking to pronounce the false king. What happened to the open eyes of discerning folks?

And to the torch we bring our candle the way forward broad and panoramic. Mystical and inspired by the awe of ages passed. We dwell among giants not as kings sent for our acceptance but mutants to sustain the fallen word of those once perfect found broken.

Tread light, the damsel whispered. Do not pummel or abuse but touch with gentility and hope. For there are tender hearts within. Presumptive reasoning and solution. Never chosen by those with carefully, meditative love.

Chasing, not always blindly after those things which do not further. What mountains shall I gain and lands review that are not already within the purview of God’s eye on Creation? Is there some hope of escaping His domain and for what reason would I remove my lips from the cool waters of life, just to say that I had done something of my own? My choice is my volition, my intention my domain, my willful disregard of the boundaries of existence, my desperate attempt to say that I am anything but a man.

Make a thing, buy a thing, be given a thing by those who join me in vapid quest only to find myself in hopeless unanswered prayer to that object of my own desire. The only hopeless thing I have truly found is my relentless pursuit of the idols and trappings of a world headed for guaranteed trainwreck around yonder bend. In moments of stepping back walking away finding once again the skinny path of the world’s mockery I find my brilliance. I do not follow well. Even God, I have hard time mirroring.

What is a man to become but the outcome of the seed planted in him? What is my character, my fibre, my nature but that which comes from the Almighty’s crafting? How then may I be anything other than that which was determined in God’s reason and expectation? If I choose to be thief, brigand, reprobate, adulterer or life taker then I have demonstrated the Truth in God’s predestination of my damnation. I have not shown my powerful statement of disobedience by choice simply by becoming the man He promised I would be if I chose that path.

I have stepped away from God and each time find the same path, outcome and separation from prudence, blessings and righteousness. There is no there out there among the vain dreams that see me emperor of my own realm. Why would I tend fields with no sowing? And in the maintenance of those things which shall never bear fruit am I nonplussed by ignorance. Shouting and spitting into the winds of coming shadow, being silenced by my lack of fear I am found bearing nothing, believing nothing and with nothing so show or take with me to Gehenna, but the desperate attempts of a disobedient child to tell his Father that he never loved Him.

Heavy in passions and sweetness. Laden not with burden but comforts of slow steady decrease in fire and sweat. Too intent and latent in progress. Words are often the shelter of my regret. Willful and wanton, left to guidance sans recourse in the heavenlies. What is power if it controls nothing especially the wielding hand of self?

This is a road through miles of dust and willow. Weeping and saturated with sand crunching crystals in course teeth. As the wind wipes the stains of our tears from the hourglass. How measured our respect when time and sound never saw a bow or heard a gestured allegiance? Were we simply present for the trophy’s distribution? Did we call this our home when steel met steel and knives broke bone of heart and head?

This is not a race worth the winning. This battle for ideas and ground that nobody finds it worthy to step forward in their defense. For what walls will men bleed their life into ground for its founding and sustainment? Will the eyes of children remember the love that spared few and forgot the names of heroes fallen? Will the idea of fealty to the King die with superior opposition? Is this the day for unbreakable will and men made for eternity?

One ounce, a speck, flake or spark is all that I possess before time counts me food for its dinner. Last bits given, handgrip, planted foot and thrusting leg to the surge of evil against us. When they roll free from atop walls slippery to bounce in the valley below. Smoke and fog clears, flags unfurled to signal the life remaining. Too counseled and weary the shout. All indifferent to the loss and the cost it would take in the dying.

We were not myth, but men, forged for the cannons of Christendom. Never to take but to resist the onslaught of hell’s fury knowing no quit, no failure, only victory promised so long ago in crimson trial and surrender. We are reborn. Fed by the fires that constructed ebb of ages. A fables true be told of giants against whom men stood courageous. Falling soundly to the last breath of flesh, awakening on the other side of dawn. To hear fine words or shrivel into the arms of darkness and fury.

Peace my immolant heart. Fires entering this age, born before time itself was named. In esteem, I hold this pulse, quickening when privileged ears piqued. Simple unto awesome may voice and heart bellow in tandem. Against the freshening breeze. What may birth bring in christening flame? Metal remade to mettle quite odd to eye and meddling thought.

None seems right by taste and touch. Sound and trumpet and ocean rush proceed the twinkling. In moments scant to measure. We found the road to crimson berth. Welcomed plunged in river real to see the transparency of metal to alloy, sight and higher resonance.

What becomes of those afraid? Too scared to Henry, Nancy they reveal. Yet she who soloed wisely saw the promise of freedom found. Into her element they ceased to amble after. In pulsing radiance, she left the bucket tumbling. On that marble hill with flowers cascading as mountain streams, she ran from her indifference.

This knowledge is beyond my quizzical and thieving mindset. Too fast, sleight of hand a failure and words only dig the holes edge in around me. What quiet is found in reason when all that encompasses are miracles beyond my foretelling of tomorrow? It is comfort, this solitude in the silence of not knowing, yet certain.

I am too infrequent to be called among the faithful. To inconsistent to be welcomed trustworthy and dependable. Yet, in this eye a pathway past forever. For the spark is everlasting. Shone deeply from the heart of the one through the foundry of man’s making. Upon the superheated firmament my soul was fashioned for this sweeping torrent.

Into God’s intention I plunge, life, heart and the secrets beyond the spirit of self and independence.

Clammy tears streaking this face that may never be washed clean. Chosen against God in error or in pride, matters not. For I am alone, separated as Christ on the Cross. Bereft of hope, Living but dead, crying out but hearing the echo of my fear in my own inner ear.

Regret, the words and laughter I gave him and her as they tried to convince me the time had arrived for reason. What choice but death now stands before me? As all that is good has gone. Will this stage finally demand a choice from this disobedient man?

Truth, stood before me and I refused to kneel in acknowledgement. Loving self, wealth, worry and design more than the one who gave me life, breath and the choice I so unwisely refused to express. Left is not a direction or term of political affiliation, the pathetic fate of those who are now in danger of never knowing God, heaven or peace. Only hell awaits.

What now as I filter through the history I refused. Knowing that the thing I resisted adamantly, God’s Word would now be my only source of escaping the fate I once adored.

Pages, what pages, what prophets, priests and promise would now lend me access to deliverance. Oh, the simplicity of being born of heaven, the utter calamity and irony of my circumstance. Now wishing I had listened, learned and broken free from the prisons of mind, deception and treasure. Now on the steps of hell, heaven was perhaps all that may be called, REAL.

Behind, past, forgotten, relegated to words and memories slowly ebbing from existence within the minds of those who remember. No Pages, No perpetuity, no continuance once forgotten by men who knew my name. Most of whom have suffered fate similar and would soon be forgotten themselves.

Jesus, the dry tongue visited the Name of Power and relief, a peace I ignored and held ignoble. Now alone was the food for life or a proper death as man having acknowledged God’s creation. A Kiss for the Son that His coming anger would Passover. This much remembered of the Word so precious having escaped my passion; All would be saved who cry out to Him.

This choice I made in instant. The deception would now come and my only escape would be standing unto death against the false faith of worldly dominion. I would offer my life to God in hope of escaping as a martyred tribulation saint. Oh that I had believed. Now no regret would save me. Only the recognition of Christ and His pity upon my unworthy soul.

Very little to tell. In pathetic hope of impressing someone who may by chance offer a smidgen of validation. The words and things I reveal are stolen from times and voices spoken. Nothing New.

Thus, outside these walls of time and shade, I sink my spade. Seeking seed or shiny flake with which to stun this world with accolade rare. To be something within the nothing, recognized and special.

To be found outside the ordinary I must understand the seldom grasped. What hands have crafted each of us? What unique breath breathed into the nostril of man? What sovereign imprint found woven in each heart?

Though most deny, love finds us so often yearning. Thinking ourselves unworthy the whispers of kindness, hope and care. We were always there. Never listening for the only voices that mattered.

Even a pinch of solid ground. A yard, a foot on plot or field. May give each man the stone unmoved for building the dreams of everlasting. Outside myself I found my faith. For inside were the worries temporary.

I am stunned by how little I’ve needed. Knowing the counsel of kings. Each amazed at this common thinking man uncomely. Residing and defining their universe by rare beauty in a space uglied by the filth of time.

To the porch the peace draws near. Sipping in the shaded glory of Weeping Willow and Sycamore. Nothing proper, all fantastic. Remarkably unrecognizable, compared to that inside the known.

I Am is that which makes me special. All fight for recognition in the frenzied competition for love of many. When the One Love that fulfills any in creation is to be known by name in the Throne Room of our God.