Leeward lean into the winds of time caught in the doldrums of collective foolishness and disregard. Harmed only by expectations and the perceptual misunderstanding accepted as norm from those who would engineer science. Answer to the call of tomfoolery’s whistle charmed against the rocks of scion sea. Why tarry in the daydream or polish up the nightmare, regarding each in their abject poverty to muster up explanation from disregard? What days must be punished to produce regard for the missteps taken? What leverage must we locate and apply to stop our boots in the solemn mud of self preservation?

There are no dreams beyond what we feel. There is no pleasure in the reluctant attempts at retardation of spirit’s whim. Fall to and find in harmony the voice of collective image. As we look through dirty glass, taking our sleeve freshly moistened with spit to find our way in the dim lit dust of this desert wandered. There are no cake walks, no pastry tours no trips to the reservoir of greenery. Only the dry sullen lake calling all to its depths bidding all turn from the possibility of miracle and beg reinstatement in the world’s noisy bosom. No taper, no customization, no courage or consideration only stark visits to the dirtied tit of temporary provision.

Where shall the next round be played as the syrup and lush candied roadways disappear in the forgotten horizon. All turn to pray upon spiritual incarnations to deliver us to something without fear, toward love when we know not the gist of our own understanding. Rampant palsied cries for resolution as the party turns to nonsense and all reach for arguments they’d once heard preached in the parlors of passed acquiescence. Our lights dimmed we adjusted our caps to capture the moonbeams and starlight of impassioned reason. What leading magnificence promises the hope of straightened pathways and cleared passage beyond midnight and the scary sands of time’s passing? Hopefully beset in doubtful measure we plod on toward the mere mention of signs, measure and wonder.

Inclined to believe but not through hearing and obedience but by promised of billboard reliability and marketing. Believe in what may pass the gullet, that which sits long upon the stomach, not the high minded promises of stellar reason. The stairway calls feet forward, escalating all though to literal mention. We must be high in mind, low in caution and absent contemplation to wander haplessly in to the hand of chaos. Pent to apply purpose to those things which randomly fall from the trees and treasures of turmoil. Our regard spent we loaf leisurely to find a seat at the edge of storm, rain or fire idlily reflecting upon our luck at being touched by the whimsical finger of fate.

To your acrimony and rage I offer love. Yes, by choice, I refuse to accept your disquieting furor and find a place unreachable by your antique weaponry. For this is not longer the day and recycled man but the era of the saint, evolved by the hand of God upon his heart. Born again to wine skin, a new flesh, resilient to house the fruit of vines yet planted. It is time to investigate this new reality that your eyes and consciousness refuse to pronounce manifest in the world of man’s violent history. For we no longer find the reasons of man sufficient to support the willingness to hate that which God has told each Love.

Gone are the winds of unbridled conquer. No medal’s born or chest so broad to account for the loss of even one of God’s created, born free to pursue the skinny path of His paramount service. Life’s fulfillment may only be born in Freedom’s Breath. Men must know the wins and errors of choice, the Choice representative in God’s gift of Loving discernment and decision. The loser is the one who finds himself driven by mere unproductive lusts even when they amass huge segments of land or kingdom for they are sycophantic and return all investment to eventual refuse heap. Cherish the moments to see men in innocent kindness and truth of God’s forgiveness. He gives all men a break and He is their rightful judge, when then may be found kind in my own breast?

Days pass as we the willing are touched by things beyond reason, by sound that may not be heard yet except by hearts set free from captivity and training to sin. We are rounding the bend of recreation. For Now there are possibilities beyond probability found only in the pursuit of everlasting. Things fostered alone in the hope of another way, another world and symbiosis with Almighty and alignment with righteous intention. Disinclined to animal pursuits losing the taste for stolen goods or lands procured on the toil of those who may be found Brother. We rest in the only place where peace remains, in the mind and heart of God

Riding beyond the affect of time, space or created will. Preserved from all reaches of influence seeking shelter from the sphere. Gone past tomorrow into the winds of seas not yet imagined driven to shores painted upon the creative will of God. What say you to the torches and tunnels of tomorrow? Shall you run free on the mountain slopes of memories unwritten or follow the terminal road of existing thought as it comes to sad ending upon the Rock of Ages?

Hand in hand we remember the treasures though few precious beyond measure. Time bows to those experiences hard felt and tested by its hand in the courage and emotion of each overcomer. Dawn has come for those who would believe beyond the potency of man’s measure. What will come excites, what will stand shall do so without the help of gravity’s capture but through shear intent to become and be for eternity. What measure have we of things beyond our own reason for which no words exist or no pleasure may tell.

We are the strange few that believed even when the costs for so doing were almost immeasurable. Tempered hearts employed reason and could not see the missing variables nor compute the quotients attached to their definition of frailty or foolishness. The dance of calibration as each of us were tried, tested and transformed or left stuck in the wagon ruts of our thoughtful passing. What then of dreams gone by written to libraries intended for such keeping. What imagined few will find the blackboards of time and space to codify our passing? How then to eternity if no understanding or character exist?

We find home, not in the terminal sense but in the ideals and annals of rest. For their is no rest from temporary trial but reconfiguring. Only in faith, hope and righteousness may the new ground be found and planted. Only in the mind of the God who mints creation’s next iteration may the home sought perpetually be observed, found and occupied. We are not the thing of dreams but of imagination and likeness and a quest for all things pure. Through love we have breathed the dusty winds of time, through time’s death we will find that which lay beyond the silky rainbow of our trials in the rest of the only One to provide such quiescence.

Men, for all their bluster about equality, diversity and cooperation although testifying to their undying devotion to these social justice foundations are clearly determined to segregate, isolate and holistically control the planet and all its inhabitants. It is preposterous to declare that a dominant segment believing in aggregate control of all population groups with a special concentration on youth utilization for ritualistic perversion would ever knowingly condone the purely moral ideals of minority empowerment. As we arrive at this new epoch, supposedly different then the standard practices of former civilizations we are faced with the stark reality that “all things remain the same” when it comes to how the rich would see the world’s future.

There is no real freedom only convincing buffer of perceived sovereignty quickly and frequently dismissed or violated to sift through evidence of those having escaped the demands and constructs of the intelligence emirate. Big Brother long since arrived off the pages of predictive-conspiracy, literature has taken hold of our families, our jobs, our free time including access to our futures. All those ideals we held dear at the center of a Christian American concept have been dashed upon the rocks with our dreams of a bright future or simply surrendered by those hoping to buy get out of hell tickets for brief escape of future society stigmatism’s. If you are going to be permanently segregated with your race, culture or melanin group then the only escape from that reality will include cross caste ventures sponsored as good will diplomacy. We are clearly being rounded up for the big cattle drive into someone’s utopian aspirations.

Lacking the leverage to wrestle trillions of dollars from those too cruel to imagine an inclusive planet several population groups are destined for destruction by the wealthy. They have once again justified cruelty in necessity, the academic perversion of the heart leading to complete denial of humanity to achieve a narrowly held set of objectives. Hearts will be determined inadequate, unnecessary and irrelevant to accommodate the dimes and dollars requisite to making billionaires trillions. You see there simply is no other option to them if they are going to significantly increase their wealth in perpetuity then someone else must suffer a commensurate decrease. Simple supply and demand, the strong survive and the fittest kill the unfit. However all worry concern or emotional debate will be quashed by the rhetoric of those refusing to acknowledge the murder of the unborn. Life no longer being precious now because an inconvenience with leverage upon ethereal man loves most his stuff.

We are now given the impetus to choose wisely the road before each of US. This nation dedicated to the Creator was given a window of opportunity to govern ourselves within the parameters of a Biblical World View. Yes we chose differently but that choice impermissible to receive continued blessings based on God’s economy leaving US once again floundering for succor in a world we thought sacrosanct. This world seeks to divide itself along the lines of the Lord Jesus Christ as its natural proclivity to self destruction. We have never been a particularly sensible people and given the opportunity to save ourselves from the wrath to come or fall right into the middle of a Great Tribulation we will choose the latter. Right now there is a window through which all those seeking solace may find it in God’s Promise. Than will not be the case for much longer and since the only choice requires a resistance to the Utopian Ideals of the wealthily and privileged then count me amoung the Resisting Poor, determined to live free even if giving our lives to do so is the only expression of freedom we ever achieve.

As the brute beast of worldly dominance subsides the artistry of those instruments born of heavenly seek increase. Struggling against the mountains of passage leads to personal conquest, yet the moving and planting of massive obstacles is not the thing of Herculean output but the quiet repose and confidence in the Power that constructs life. I no longer wish to conquer everything my eyes behold and may distinguish between that which shall be made impotent or through having its fragility destroyed cease usability. Some things were made to be beheld, adored, observed and when enslaved, captured or held tightly to grasp lose their beauty.

The world has entered for desire or not an age of awakening to things of spirituality leading to God. Many refusing to accept God as a Truth in their origin now seek some enlightenment skirting the thoughts of God that they may observe magics, communion of thought and miraculous venture without having to become accountable to Almighty. By nature it is a frivolous and short term venture all will be confronted with the decisions they seek to avoid. All power is from God, therefore any capture, use, mastery or sharing of power in any form confronts each participant with the connection from which they sought escape. The origin of life and thus the origin of all power is God, inescapable, immovable, Truth.

No longer a warrior, rather Prince and Priest I no longer seek stare down matches from which I sought even and certain dominance but now send forth peace in my lasting gaze. Those who will be moved by Love and Peace fall pray to its potency and return grin or kind reference, those who would be led by hate cannot withstand this viewing and will invariably turn away. What is it in enlightenment that displays the inner character of man? How may the deception so rapidly be lain ineffective rest with simple glance? I do not seek to dominate or captivate a man but merely offer Love and see what comes in return of that free will offer in harmonious intention.

Come captive find freedom and rebirthing. Choose the decision that breeds eternal life within each bosom. Choose the excitement of transformation in to new creation, intention, purpose and design steering clear of the predetermination of a hapless past. Stand with God as the new dawn arises giving light to that which may only be anticipated or imagined, those things which God says we cannot yet begin to comprehend in a future not yet constructed. What intent may polarize a man when he knows all shall be waylaid for future crafting? The flavor in the marrow of this temporary world grows tasteless as the promise of youth everlasting cries out to the faithful and the reasoned. Dwell with the inhabitants of Earth for a time but keep sight to the horizon from whence all things new shall rise.

Hello, My Friend how are you? It’s been several years since I have heard your prayers. So long you’ve been away. So sorry, that one of us lost our way in the dark of night or the fog of morn. Is there still joy around your heart? Does it give you guard against the darkness, keeping your love fervent and your heart against the night? What hills have you taken and what in your valley grows, what things have you forsaken and have your winter’s been filled with snows? What birds or dreams have you been chasing each night as dawn approaches without shame? What forgiveness have you offered and are you in need of the same?

What a grand time to walk with folks who truly love the idea of taking today into the tomorrow of God’s impending will. I know that my own heart has been rebellious for most of my waking life and in these moments I am grateful to see examples of those who know how to demonstrate their love for our Sovereign God. Obedience is the only method to truly prove my love. And as in all things sovereign love must be found and offered voluntarily by the one to whom love was originally shown. We cannot say that someone must love us for that violates the concept of Love itself being a choice. That is why satan evokes the word choice so often in the destruction of our unborn or elderly because in so doing I cannot imagine that God is left unharmed. may the Lord rebuke him if He so chooses.

Today we are met with the children he see no fault in throwing their feces upon the streets around their homes. They see no reason why they should be held accountable for actions that were forced upon them by difficult youth. They want money without work, dreams without imagination and authority when they have no respect for any. This is the ground primed for the ideals of anti Christ. The Spirit itself would be openly flaunting its ugly strength if not for the presence of the restraining Spirit of God’s Holiness within the heart of each Christian. This is the greatest evidence beside the scriptural basis for a rapture, for there is no other way to remove the restraining Spirit of God but by removing each Temple in which He lives, that being every born again Christian in the world right now.

Power is the precinct of the fallen. Bodiless in spirit they must use power that allows them to reside within you. Those movies teaching our children to be warlocks and sorcerers using incantations and ancient texts is a provocation for our children to begin believing that they themselves may be “chosen” to wield the dark powers of the enemy. We see the same invitation in drugs to join their alter egos in an altered dimensional state giving them the power to “leave” their reality and be someone else entirely. As we teach them to hate this life it becomes increasingly likely that they will chose and alternate explanation for their origin and purpose, instead thinking themselves born from darkness instead of For the Light.

Singing to the hand upon the marching tide of time. Hoping so that dreams and love will guide man to a better place. Seemingly endless this provocative set of events dashing humanity upon the rocks with relentless intent to see it shattered and scattered at ocean’s peak. We appeal to those things that decided what is real, to take breather and let man get his feet beneath his weight. May we stand in the promises of someone mightier than all who having foreseen our calamity built escapes and exit ramps into the works that we collectively may find the respite requisite to fight on.

What is this another dawn of mayhem and purmiscuity set to rot the pure and take from us the opportunity to be blessed with peace, order and calm. Why do the righteous fight with such abandon? Is it destruction’s purse that calls them to avoid extinction or some grand hope and knowledge that the end is not yet played? We have seen the heart, darkened, fermented and wicked abusive engines of the wicked. We have been made familiar to the self-indulgent hand of those who would see all their aspirations planted. What then of humility weeded instructively to the minds of youth? Have they no simple understanding of the grace allotted mankind in its position before the sovereign? Has glory and superior authority and power escaped their understanding? Must they be diminished, disciplined or destroyed to see the follow of their own measure? Must all be subjected to surrender?

This is the time of great choices. On which team shall we participate, on which branch of the river shall we travel the appendages of time? Where do our expectations lead? What dreams do we portend, what mysteries invest? How splendid the measure with which men are counted? What deep molecular bindings adhere the mettle of man? Searching for Grail in Grace or character get lost we on the roads to comprehension that they may one and same in the remaking of each heart. What guides our rubric having realized escaped captivity? How does change provide relief to saints determined to war with powers beyond reason sans loving care? Shall thy lovingkindness be declared in the grave? or thy faithfulness in destruction? Psalm 88:11 For to accomplish any great counsel it must be achieved in the temporary to effect eternal understanding.

I know your pain love. If there’s any one things I am sure about you is that this world has really done you wrong. If there were only one song I could sing about your heart, telling the truth about your concentration. It would have to be, It could only be about the wounds that had made you power less. Powerless to see the happiness and grace swiftly floating on bye. The only sound I can write about in the dark is the sound of your dropping tears on parchment, or pavement or the tile of your kitchen floor. One things I’m sure of is that your wounds are never gonna heal, because they weren’t made by steel but the stolen moments of love painful grip and the torture of families and how they know just how to bring a person down, to hold a spirit down so that it never forgives, never finds time to live, never escapes the instruments of inflicted pain. Never again may I laugh in the night, about something so silly as the wrong clothes in the rain. Never again will I tell all the tales of beauty, and wealth and overcoming youth in the battles of reason and season and rhyme. Never again to take the time to tell all the world of your smiles. For the Wiles of a sorrowful enemy have captured you for the length of this life and they can never get out so I can never get in to see the dreams to hear the wonderful dreams about the screams and the torturesome nigthmare that only seems to come when something incredible promises life within hope. But in the sky so blue at the moment and pink in the corners as the sun reaches how to paint, there are such dreams that you never will follow but were certainly written solely for you. And in the heart that will follow there’s safety from hollow in the real concrete love of this life. No more knives, or nightmares, no more worry filled wonders only marvels and wishes and dares. To the sun that you refuse to acknowledge the dark is just a transition for scenes. Teaming with life the rose on the hill grows larger than the twinkle in your eye. For nothing can die if life is the answer and no love can be lost if you’re the romancer caught up in the dream that is held together by the glue of your indomitable spirit every time we hear it we Jump for Joy. For the dance that matches the song in my heart comes to the part where we stand on the top of the hill with lightning parading its fusion in the distance but we remiss take heed to the moment prayer for no end and whirl in the wind arm in arm, thinking of safety not harm working with whit and full charm, refusing to give into alarm we find the mystery in the shade of the trees and the cool breeze calms the fire of our furious fears remember the years and counting the roughshod our treasure dancing into the wee hours of dawn without a thought or a yawn, the music goes on without whimsy. So flimsy the past that we easily reach beyond it to untie the bonds of time and the hopeless reason found in incorrectable moments, Wrongs set to right in the songs of the night as we reach into light from the dark of the night. We are fearful at first but upon whetting our thirst we shout out with a burst of lyrics and harmonies stronger at first than we wanted to be but it is time to see the joy not as weapon or toy but as truth of a life lived for purpose.

Looking to all creation, imagining the transformation when God is through. For so long He has allowed rogue forces and disobedient men to promulgate a strangeness into perfection intended. What does sinless portend, what is the hand that wields Iron Staff, what are influences absent conflict? The innocent first indication of absent fear and resolved threat. As they grow and mature in God’s pleasure without worry, cry or tragic realization of their frailty. We shall for once see Creation’s mouth controlled and its hunger for innocent flesh and spirit abated.

We were not meant for tragic harmonies. We were not designed for the joy of the kill, but to grow, restore, nurture, encourage and collect. Meant to bring before God the blessings of our improvement that He may rejoice in our will to be like Him. My brutish days have gone, thankfully. It is greater to be defender of the frail and lose then to conquer all the vulnerable masses and live. My conflict has never been with Men, nor do I fight God now, but struggle against the dimensions of my own spiritual awakening. Seasoned to become that which is impossible without God’s persuasion.

This dance is not to prosper the wicked nor to convict the overtly to their travails and crimes. It is the last attempt at rescue, that they who believes themselves top of the food chain may see that they have divined incorrectly. That the iniquitous may in seeing they are the frailty of man may find the humility and fear before THE Sovereign All Powerful authority and remember themselves as babes. We are caught in the trap of our own impoverished thinking and palsied argument. For our attempt to reconcile our sin names us immediately among the most foolish to have known this world. We are here to minister in joy and pray in the power of live living. Intercession in appropriate timing to see those headed for damnation saved and set aside for God’s very best.

Using Joy as weaponry. This day I looked through storm to the quiet a part of me knew lay beyond. Never shaken, harkened to the quiescence of God’s sleeping form, concretized in ships bow. Harkening to hope held by promise of the ages, shielding, pathways, exits that never fail appearing precisely when and where needed. Long, Kind, cooling breezes interrupt the incessant heat of furnace fire, whispering of peace when battle’s acquired.

In harmony the Word lingered repelling the encompassing cries of fervent fear. Leaving the enemy despondent as pastures lay unaffected by smear, ritual or distant magic. We tended, mended and landed upon sullen knee smiling at the hatchlings poking beak above soil ready for the fertile works of sanctification and discipline. Oh pure waters of life and peace shatter the screaming dark and leave the fields ripe, ready for scythe and storehouse.

Focused upon that which is unseen, never heard and hardly felt as the hand that holds time slips beyond its material masses. We are the tools of infinity, runners and rails of mobius existence finding way to beginning and beyond end to rebirth where time has lost authority. Sing praises to a King who makes wounds into scar and pain into pliant works that circumstance loses impact and time has lost control. We are the things of everlasting abiding in the King, eaters of the twelve fruits and dreamers in the garden.

Courage, rapport, standing hope kindled in the lighting of creation a fire beyond wind, water or fuel but burning as a reminder to time that there have always been something beyond it. This day filled with the fuels of molecular transformation to see purity in the eyes of those who have never known impossibility yet believed. Cupped waters of life staring at the pray in juxtaposition, encamped certain, awaiting dispatch by God’s simple roar. Calamities footing, chaos guided by artful hands to make that which cannot exist in fury but purely in calm. Utter surrender to Potter’s twisting fingers, pliable, blended shaped, fired and painted as mastery of Life, loved by Maker, Marked for entry to New Jerusalem and the hall of God.