Spring so chilly evoking memories of golden dawn throwing handfuls of cracked corn to all that gathered. Dampened socks, walking through grass that beckoned the arrival of tractor’s blade. How sharp the light as it lit up the forest bringing smiles to the fatless birds? With measured and oft unexpected precision it reminds everything that life has always been in charge. Into each day carrying the imprint of God’s DNA we find ourselves ne’er forgotten.

What calamity has this mind anticipated or conjured for reasons of excuse or whining. For all even the steep ascent are sponsors of our improvement. Beside myself walking with my morning shadow never thinking to ask him what he thought. For truth be told to make this day perfection. I never really wondered about those things beyond my reasoning, knowing somehow that the burden was not my own. A happy life of simple pleasures caused dimple for furrow forever, leaving behind the valley of my joyous grin.

August interrogative concerning productivity and harvest best left for September noon found their way to mind’s eye. As bud bid bird the word I heard caused faith to flourish as the seed found sun and sky. No mourning for days written. Songs sung few and new by mouths opened and shaped to bring trumpets and clarion call to corners and crevice. Dancing for no other reason than I am able. To table bring the fruits of labors and miracle unfinished, waiting for time to find its seat among the plenty. In mystery I found great threat to purpose.

Are you the hopeful champion of incandescent transparency? What shape your hands mimic as the walls of cave back away? Dervish damsels twirled in the feather light sound of days procession. Thickened air struggles to bring pollen from to tree to land and ground to air. Bees, unconscious of their buzzing match flight to the cackle and crackle of powers unseen. A soldier saunters toward the smell of honey, delighted by the opportunity to fight for something delightful. In the branch the tree dreamed of red, ripened fruit upon each vine.

In Spirit we forgot all envy. For when the world is your cupcake no thought of loss or scarcity enters the scintillating taste upon buds ready. Piercing the day the crow squawked, the hen clucked, and the scarecrow just stood watching. With petulant gaze the pony thought them paupers. Upon the roof so slippering and steep the cat laughed at sheep and dog running toward fed meadow. As I catalogued it all to form my dreams it seems everything was as it should have been. Into the waiting manuscript I walked with confidence and a smidgen of recall.

Those moments of pleasure and joy are not simply rewards of some entitled birth. They are the gifts are the foundation of faithful memories in well-living. What then of the challenges? Are they dismissed then or most aptly forgotten as the unpleasant remnant of distaste? Do they represent those challenges or detraction from the gift set of living? Maturity arguably occurs when the challenges are viewed as equal or greater reward measured against those times of joy and pleasure. Why? Because, they represent the stark, truth that life is not just about the sweet test of sensory activation but the prompting and catalyst of growth toward what lies ahead.

Each infant begins to crawl, but the emphasis or goal is to stand. As muscles build, coordination, balance and desire combine we find ourselves unlike all other mammals walking erect, in physicality not simply thought. My pleasures may be of mind or matter. Equally those times of trial lead to increased thinking capacity, improved emotional response, physical strengthening and yet may deliver the greatest impact in Spiritual maturation. This destination demands courage and hope to stand against coming catalyst to reach performance beyond previous possibility.

We as men and women are most truly increased when we learn and joyfully meet those trials set before with the certain understanding of our obvious improvement in endurance. In fact, those who shy from, avoid or lack the courage to resist fear and flight in facing these trials are viewed in disappointment. Why then are men so pent upon residing in constant pleasure absent any conflict? Why is conflict the basis for any good novel, play or movie and without such impetus viewed with boredom? Does this realization shock? That we actually find challenge and conflict essential to good living?

In faith, it is the man and woman who meet their challenges with joy that prevail. We excel when desiring the test, quest and venture of body and mind. To wrote, God enters the fray of the man who meets life’s challenge with joyous expectation through provision of the “Fruits” of His Sovereign Spirit to aid in the maturation and achievement of man’s stretching beyond the norm and now. He even promises peace that will somehow dull the sting and severity of the obstructions, pain or difficulties. Why then must we reach beyond the sensory expectation of eye, flesh and desire to achieve greater growth and reward of life not simply lived in pleasure but one that is transformed perhaps more by pain, endurance and effort?

Because sin or pleasure is easy and requires self-maintenance. Embracing challenge and change is a determined mindset seeking that which is beyond routine found in hunger, sight, lasciviousness and touch. What then is the drive to stand firmly and joyfully in the expectation of test and challenge? Certainly a man must not believe in God to want something more for himself? Even evil will test itself to gain muscle, power and dominion of mind and matter. Why then is joy the crux in reaching the sweetest existence? For the Joy of the Lord is our strength. As we seek to do the impossible, then miracle is our expectation. And miracle is only found in the Hand of God as is the offer and acceptance of eternity. So we stand in that knowledge, hope and determination to reach that which extends beyond us. We seek to be changed into something beyond sensory fulfillment, a quest to meet, know and resemble our Creator, God.

Stepped away. A moment’s breath relaxing or better described sitting upon my overturned shield. Relinquishing my hurry and relieving all who were certain to receive my blame. There is no upset or shame in acceptance of accountability due this man. In tomorrow miracles will aptly shine or gold, opal and promise.

The taste so sweet of Melton honey or crisp and clear milk just down from glacier’s ridge. Songs thought of reason and romance played to match wisdom’s resolve. In the dime’s time we chatted of dungeon’s plunder, dragons met and better yet our dreams of peace and passion. How do the children know that which has yet been learned or told them?

Gallant green upon tanned hide’s edge. Declaring the family’s faith and will to be remembered on battle’s field. We stood as ordered, set to tens and fifties, fighting for the rights of life and breath’s continuance. In daydreams we found surety. Opened to the causeways of mind and mystery, we sought the origins of time and temerity.

In fleeting jest, I laughed about the humble. All the while admiring from the sidelines of a life lived for splendor. In deep the pulse of life’s inherit rhythm. Counting out upon quick time the march of mankind’s escapade. Beset by meager and eager portions we were overwhelmed in doubt rather than believe. Firm the footing of a man whose supply is certain. Even if the wind recalls my heart may still be far from faith.

This ride the taste of breeze and fern as the leaves impressed my visage. To the sight of meaner things our fond recitation ventured. When first recalled we automatically found our plight strengthen but in remorse the mourning soon subsides. For all my words the deeds I’ve done mere actions. For lasting hope invested must call to order pride and require greater talent.

Cool, red sky morning. Purple poked a hole through the dusty black, anticipating arrival. A chirping reminder in the misty, morning march. Smoky clouds. Sweet the call to dawn.

Uptown a young man found his sea legs. Determined to do whatever it takes to conquer all the elements. A passing hand, corporate gang signs exchanged, as fury lingered in corridors beyond.

Whimsical patches of pillowed grey with highlights of maroon and white. Anxiety speaks. The gathering of personalities drowns out the voice of peace. Unkempt souls, denouncing their refinement offer rage and sage at altars on the subway.

We are dressed as the men who hold the pantry. In faith and depth we find shallow the public ponds of passion. Collecting dissipated heat we proclaim ourselves genius though others disagree.

Bring me those who would find their freedom. Defending with heart and hope the sweat of bloody brow. To build upon a dream of something left unspoken. A vision seen of places yet defined.

Incorporate the Gospel. Of flotsam and fealty, we pine in days remembered. Singing hymns and pious ramblings with words too large for teeth and tongue. The Brethren bid them struggle.

A bubble, a flower and petals strewn asunder. A murdered mystery of love. Bereft of the brief innocence in finding. We pitch headlong into the abyss of misunderstanding. Wanting what we were told was proper tomorrow. Holding to the hem of today.

Frequently standing atop projections I fail to explain the image of my ineloquence. Infrequent testimony of bliss and harm I shadow the grace with simple self-attachment. Finding nothing but a pot of old gold at rainbow’s end that simply converts to nothing purchased at Ended Days. Where is the pleasure of this treasure, I expended breath and might to locate and steal from defeated leprechaun, liberal or reformed, truth-teller preaching merriment? When statues speak it all begins to reek of poisoned paradise.

Miscreants have entered through the front door of the palace, even now feeding your children through straws banned in their nativity. Mirrors of hopelessness flash upon cave wall while everyone tries their darndest to pretend the shadows are real as they have seen the sun arising. Angels of Light are still, well, simply servants of the King. How then will emperor follow fallow casting to crush a world he was never meant to own? In decency, I must tell the naked king he is wearing nothing in front of children.

They don’t like my meter, measure, rhythm or key changes and all I can say in ad hominem is, who invited you any old way. Standing when now fashionable to kneel before pictures of an imaginary king, sheltered in the combinatory image of Zeus, Socrates and Aristotle pointing to sky and Earth promising thunder by four thirty. When in the throne room my reverence thrust me to my face before Sovereign explanation. Reality is when your knees will no longer hold you in the presence of your Maker whether unsupported or contrite you are pleased the salty sea of glass.

Your red shoes do not earn the kiss upon that ring. For Gold is not god but one letter removed just as the number of the man is just this side at the sealed door of perfection. We are not heroes of our own proclamation. And millions killed or lands stolen in legality or legacy are simply contortions of a proper heart for Messiah. This breaking was crafted before the beginning of your age, as God Himself dropped the gauntlet at the feet of man and angel. Wood, hay and stubble, metal, birds or madness can never be the king of a heart made in Heaven’s crucible venture. The products of genetics cannot make the seed that tends, starts or remakes Creation. That is only done by the Word a Word spoken by tongue and mind that sliced time, mass and gravity from the slab of nothing.

Chomping at a bit ill fitted to my bite. Working puzzles in the dark, hoping with candor to impress the Queen. No service shall solicitate gravitas and certitude. Only mild wisdom finds freedom in folly, laughing upon the uproarious films of one’s own missteps, down the back steps in flight to find accommodation in reason. Prioritizing the forgotten, the misdirected and the egoistic. Sheltering from a storm that just won’t leave the stage, quivering the trees looked on in wonder. In the misty dawn one rode home to the smell of molasses and birchwood.

Where the sky befriends each cloud. Found loudly humming the melody to something beyond scope or comprehension. An old song sung brightly with colors not yet welcomed to the rainbow. But in each prison there remains a bird dreaming, of escape, no grasping at the memories of flight. Once again aloft to skirt the depth in diving and fight the limits of physics in lesser and greater sphere. No fear just plain excitement as ride reaches apex and gravity beckons.

To the leash I need restraint. Forgotten boundaries and excess burden of imaginary promise. One such told me of the kindled feathered fire breathing in bellowed belches to quench or stoke the flames of magic, steam and anthem. Process the quickened heart allowed to love unbounded. As flowers in Moon’s light, dancing to dark silhouettes and shadow. We have hoped and treed the squirrels, polecats and racoons found scamping. To let them fun wild at dawn in the market square of plunder. What we recall was not much at all.

Torches held highly to shine the monstrous light of pursuit en company. Heightened bell tones leaving a mark as they seared the inside of ear and mind. For this day would ne’er be forgotten, written in the moorings of spaces, places and daydreams. Fashion and the mages of desk driven madness, practicing alchemy to feed to chemistry of a life gone to seed. Are we to calculate the excess, removing the dross with scant shod blade and waiting for the refire. Immaculate crimson gold sought to sift the wheat and chaff within me. As I stood naked for the toll. Not knowing nor recalling passing this bridge in such a hurry. We fought for miles with barrels full of inches and misspellings.

Syntropic recall all emerging in reflex action to the call of wild nights yet measured. Do not abandon the shores of telescopic humor, booms of laughter reverberating in the hours of morn, spliced in before cold rise and slumber. Into the wood to chase the good in moods set to music yet written. Born of space without time prose without rhyme in a day yet remembered by those forgotten. Eclectic spurred onward to sky’s touched only by the breath of vision and purpose we leapt for greatness and fell soundly into the hands of leather which bore us.

Trying to be full attracts flies and all manner of indoctrination, folly and supposed sustenance from the feeble and the dark. The depths of masquerade invite the layered and the slight. Hands fast, openings determinedly exploited by the hungry and the opportunistic. No innocence left in the cached hues of Peet and bog. Buried to be lost to recognition and forgotten by the flowers of morn. We are kin to noon and abhor the hour of chant and curse.

Thespian with reluctance is a man who tells truth when lies are in the script. Anodized by walking through fires that neither burn nor tarnish but brighten to reflective countenance. In the quest to be repeated I shout sharp tales and livid lines of imaginary vintage, but few hear and less retain or second. A stout Amen springs from rear of the forgery. Will he want or won’t he will to do what the bill retains?

In the glass he sees the seas and feels the breeze as the nighttime tease’s morning. As dolphin leapt and dark things crept in from the shadowed forest. All sought joy, both girl and the boy wanting nothing more that wanting and waiting for nothing more than everything they’d been promised. Overwhelmed is not reason for revolution but seeking the comfort of the beveled edge. Solace in loving beyond measure, with the reserved pleasure awaiting me at mid state’s crossing. Left dried and over done by a warm bout of sun that split the winter wide open, there is no mooring for the man soaring the skies of hereafter, dashing parsecs through Orion. Star ward to the brisk running rivers of sunlight and dream.

What kept you screamed the clock having lost grip on the soul of man? What drivel tales will be told of the bold run you made to escape the shadow of the sun? Into relief I pass all passion and power to find the bold comfort of these days spent in delivery. Launching into magic, not sorcery of spirit but the things beyond deep thinking. To see the dreaming heart of God. He imagined me in a thousand different seasons with a million melted hearts standing against the carpeting waves pummeling my glass to crimson valor. For Love is the embrace of those beyond control of time, those days of wonder lost to grip of man or angel. The roads beyond the moon leading into endless sky where birds have led us longing.

Father in prayer let me honor your outcomes. Let me not spend idle time seeking bounty, but instead praying for those people you love enough to have died for them. Laying down in sacrifice not for recompense or reward but for the hope of their survival and proper finish. Lord let them all bring Glory to you a thousand-fold while my joy is complete in your receipt. Bestow upon me that mercy to watch the wonderful men you’ve made do all those miracles to please their King. Let me lay down my life for others not for my own whims of wonder.

By nature and example these things may never occur without your Hand and Will upon them. For they be miracles of which men are incapable without your powerful Spirit to guide fill and empower. Let all those who would call themselves by your Mighty name become well versed in conversation with the king. Lord let them know that miracles will occur to bring all to the wonders of our Sovereign God. Please find my hope and love as inspiration and humble request for your Glory. Thank you for the patience that you’ve lent me as I often rely upon your love to keep me in waiting hope for that which is yet to come. Reveal yourself Lord that all may know and find peace, everlasting Peace in Love for You.

In my dreams I see eternity take shape around us. What a day that moment when we find our final place at the foot of the throne to love, serve and be your Forever Family. I am entrenched in a battle that has been won by King and God, defeating the mythical mists and spirit of evil, time, death and hell. Lord we are beyond the reach of those once found us captive. In your merciful love we have the power to pray and know that the quest if righteous and certain. Lord let me stay in your presence always forgetting to once again look upon the shiny things of this world as they dullen to our heavenly sense.

We are eternal fooled by our temporary existence into believing that this world continues its clutch and mastery of our hearts and minds. But we are children of the King with all that means much of which is beyond conception or understanding rather of mighty promise. I look to the some day in peace, that wonderful day when I will become enlightened to the reality of God, the truth of Heaven, the remaking of the World in Your Image without fear, death or wickedness. These things are the cravings of this man’s will and heart. Father hear my call to you for the finality of your wisdom and intention. Lord patiently waiting on this field of battle where enemy has fled and those hearts and eyes await knowing you. What Joy may be found and measured in this man’s heart.

Immolated purple and crushed cherry. Golden harmony pulling tears that would not otherwise be offered for peace. In expression we find the words and comfort of compassion given to the impoverished, poor and often least remembered. What glory in establishing hope? The cold wet earth stands ready for ice or seed. The sun standing watch over the valley of indifference. What grows in hearts found sullen, hugging despair?

These are the bright mornings of our recall. Turning back not to black and ruin but to morns of reason, expectation and creation. We have been freed of the burdens of our own involvement or duty. The headlines proclaim that joy made happiness irrelevant. For mountains do not hate the sky, tickling its fancy. Nights do a dance with light of day. Knowing that for a time to observe humility we all must step away from the passions.

Driven to be more than secured by war, sweat and elbows. We follow the wings of birds who know the season. Flight time in transit, overlooking the masses. Window to this and other worlds I enter the portal and find myself at the foot of glassy seas. Fashioned fancy and romance to rival fiefdoms. We sorted and pressed to deliver a product consistent with calamity but were reminded all along of master’s intent. Rekindling fires long frozen in pits untended we set the flames of yesteryear to spark future fealty.

What dance against the teal and sand driven sky? Hand in hand we paraded in a quest for honor with mouths half filled in sand as our words reflect the dust we’d begun. We yearned for anything green or slow running milky creeks of mountainous winter. Into our own dreams we retreated, knowing white and auburn or emerald. Regretting our venture into the dual dimensions of the temporary we sought the twisted strings of color revolutions. When the keys are found, the door opened, who pines for the previous? Not I said the willing.

Into habit regret marches confidently. Relief the corner of my tears as years drop away into the rivers of time and forever. Wounded, buffeted until the shawl of spirit is bunched and tattered. Running headlong into thanksgiving is a capable response for worry. In the palm of a quiet hand I found time and breath to make the journey. Relieved, to have believed in something outside the ordinary. Something real, miraculous and fostering joy, irreplaceable.

Fully subscribed to example, having paid the entry fee, you cannot convince me that this road fails to reach grand summit. Unlike the winters feeble touch, the lively seed of morning mystery graces us this first glimpse of Spring’s valor. What is left to grow beyond the reach of madness and infertile thinking? There is arrival and the revival of superior thinking akin to mastery of man. Unkempt, bedraggled, forced to see the waxen fury of man’s mystic pursuit as his palsy rages at moons, meekness and memories.

What weakened state of petrified fear pins me against the chasm wall? Feet convinced or bribed by enablers and branded thieves to stay their ground when flight is beckoned. Let go all that was and never could to find those things spoken of by next week and tomorrow. Chatting humbly at the skirt of time about space, and days in between the making of all matter. What free hand idea is scribed when looking over shoulder to warn them of policing thought? Most notable the charge of electrons seeking to establish a base for reasoned purpose.

Into home I capture Escalera. No drag of unsecured baggage or antenna. There is no stopping within the event horizon unless the shields administered preventor. To collapse within oneself when shy from piercing light. In hope of answering poorly to be released by inadequate access. No one fears the known until forced surrender by the knowable. And days of dream teach us tales and language to reach strangers. With perfect word and hope beyond the hands of time or death. Arriving at a thousand tomorrows forgotten yesterdays and years of anguished folly, I rest my argument upon the eyes of fire.