Within the day of dreamers, the nightmare seldom ends, for scammers and the schemers and the plot that each defends. They mask themselves in goodness and hide the seldom seen, by telling blatant falsehood about what they’ve done and where they’ve been. In delight a man looks skyward looking for return, he picks up his cross each morning setting out to learn. But in our passing madness we find that we are wrought, desperation and such sadness is all that we have brought. Released from inhibition despair becomes our friend and nightly we find justification for the golems we befriend.

As we near the Ending of what man’s Folly built, we are mired in the quagmire surviving on the silt. We strained the camel nicely and found our place within this world, dancing on the parade deck to see the flag unfurled. But have sworn to falsehood and the crimes that man commits, we wept in our imagination as we’ve worn the shoe that fits. No nuptial’s of celebration no knights so proudly hailed, the sin we’ve lusted after made certain that we failed. To the grave we’ve once been given to rise upon that day At the White Throne find condemnation hoping for the black or gray.

So charming and so damning we promise to do no harm but to those with understanding our words just raise alarm. We care for naught but treasure and the pleasure that our hearts need, to death we bid impoverished to slumber from our greed. Each hope is unfamiliar each passion so quickly known we will reap the right of fashion and the doom from seed we’ve sown. To Lord of liquid pleasure and a measure of bright salt, I’ll tell my tale of glory and how none of this is my fault.

But to God I will be kneeling confessing with my tongue, of the Christ who deserves all glory, I heard about Him when I was young. But in the spirit of confession as the curtain draws a nigh, my very first impression was that all Christian’s Lie. So I am set for home Gehanna and in that fiery lake I will rage on for eternity in the flames of my life’s wake. I wished I listened sooner to the love my Brother’s bid, but had I thought my life was done before they closed the lid. I thought I’d live forever and now I see I will, in agony and weeping I must pay the bill. Though Christ offered me freedom I spit upon the Cross now I will dream of that gift forever counting it all as loss.

What is this heart, that is could withstand such pain? What has God given me that I become able to stand each time again? Can we find a life of mercy, when all we know has been despair? Are their words that speak salvation when I’ve lost the will to care? Is there a way to make things right when all I can remember is the will to hide? Not in me, but because He loved me, I confide.

I confide in the Promised one who knew me in the womb, doing things through the grace of God with each breath that I consume, reaching out to face the perfect dream one they told me would never show. In the midst of wounded memory as a young man running for his life, I found him in the dog house hiding with my life long friend. A hand held out in comfort making it so I could breathe again.

In my pride I ran from Jesus in my humility I fell, you see all the time I thought I understood He knew me much too well. Raging at the nightmare and throwing up my hands in my tears He just smiled as if everything I felt as it had all been planned. In my fury I took hostages and even those I love, Then He touched my shoulder briefly and it my life split open wide. All the pain and the punishment were all I’d ever known, but He showed the scars he took for me I knew then I’d never been alone

I confide in Jesus because He has promised me, to be devoted each and every moment and He’d certainly set me free. He stands upon His promises even when I’ve lost my way, He is the same now and forever and that’s what gets me through each day.

Love’s soft hand upon your heart did not fail in touching the light and kindling the memories that shall sponsor the passage to dream. She is forgone, not as conclusion or taken for granted but in surety of Eternity’s light caress on the mind of those caught in frailty of time’s counting. Where is the amber rose in Winter but in the heart of men who cannot wait to smell the gift of Spring’s launching breeze, content in the knowledge that its petal shall fall freely adored by all.

When not if time wanders off having lost its powerful grip upon life, we will sit quietly in the early light of new day. Dreaming of the unlimited, the undaunted the majesty of God’s Imagination. The soft, rhythmic heartbeat of God’s Call upon your Spirit marks time gently with the turning of the Earth and Stars. Counting sideways on timeline that which is better expressed on the back side of Z Plane upside down propelled immemorial. What graphic or word may express that which is yet comprehended, those things existing without knowledge, defining my universe that I have yet to make familiar.

To Pine for God is time’s precious gift reminding US with tired bones, gray hair and shuffled walk that we are not permanent in this place but only in His presence. This day is not the fulfillment of my purpose for I go on and on walking with Alpha and Omega, learning that which I have yet to behold. Love is my freedom not failing in the simplified wondering that I should be set free here when here we may never be set free but for eternal life’s review. The surrendered are free, the rebellious captive and the irony calls upon each to reconcile. I shall not know my greatest now for I have never met my maker and seen fully His Loving Grace face to face as His Promised Hope is fulfilled in my seeing.

This place is quite pleasant and altogether frustrating as it vacillates from good to worse, joy to dark and weak to seemingly rigid. I suffer the impermanence as my mind seeks flight beyond the comport and controls of gravity, time, sound, space and memory. Written on the tablet of the stars having become part of God’s story of for this and every universe, my name will appear as a small set of chicken scratches on the grant tapestry He weaves. That string, made faithful by the trials and the loving direction and counsel of God, eternity will acknowledge me as one who made the Book. He wrote me in the Book.

From catastrophe to peace, whine to weary, whimsical to hardy, the environ most often makes the man. We plan as we hope to make the most of each opportunity but most clarity comes in realization that what we thought we could produce was way less than was adequate to fill most wish lists. At time of execution the unexpected hurry or collateral influences traditionally make short work of folly filled expectation’s. Just once would be sufficient to see something happen according to plan just to say that the possibility does in deed exist.

Bred for cannon, made for mystery and headed into the mouth of oblivion, my pride becomes torch and my regret forgotten as unimportant to the task at hand. Inclined to bravery on paper and comedy in repose I witness the cross between organic ministry and a ill choreographed dance video with people a bit too large to sell copies. Where is the fan fare? Who’s brought the diamond ascots and Italian leather shoes when it comes to intel and reason? Skirting the critics I bid them quickly rush out platters of olive drenched hors d’oeurves and begin filling drinks til they wave off the servers. What makes a party but over indulgence and soon the bleary eyed addicts are apparent heir to the cloister that was once intended as academic.

Tomorrow, the discussions brief as the sun and dry heat remind all how many years have passed since they pulled all nighters. A stroke of wisdom and none share your own regret but rather are catapulted in personal nightmare at work, play or castle. We all must refrain from willful resumption of the self servant business of social importance, but many will wait until Dracula beats them to bed before learning the lessons of mid life. What hopes have those who look to the weekend for reaffirming life’s misery only to find that its promised release only means greater captivity come Monday morn? Gone the immortal belief system of youth replaced with the I will get a few and be gone by 9:15 safely home by ten, gone to the pleasures of snoring dreams and a morning where I still have some function.

What damsels defended what pride burst what wagons unrutted or grand fish to be caught bought of the robust tales of would be acolytes? Meaning in mourning yawning in warning they parade round the room in search of slayable dragons or easily plied women born of a silly romanced imagination as passage to paradise. Bad boys gone and the fawn to frail for the dance we collapse into the hopeful hands and demands of someone who couldn’t pronounce my name half sober and definitely could write or type with either twisted set of fingers. These are the days of marvelous words spoken in self interest for the sole purpose of winning from the ground the cupie doll or fealty or adoration. This is not young desire to find oneself validated by those grateful onlookers but the sad, dismal attempt of the unwanted to justify themselves among the list of has-beens’ and morons left wanting. No escape no remorse no recourse but another bold attempt at conquering the world in the daylight.

What was served, what grand intention displayed, what philanthropic mission written successfully into the annals of the wealthy? Who bought what with borrowed time, money or intellect only to find they traded up with intention of selling all they had and moving to Belize. Now finding a life of fealty and praise a new Queen or tyrant served for the cause of believing that Nirvana simply resides beyond the curvature of the globe and someday soon will see that our folly was best. It didn’t please me not because there were no prize in my category or that the acting gig displeased me but to the word waste I must assign option. Time my only asset and it in scarce season what then would I such one extra breath while it counted me foolish for missing the pearl’s great wisdom. What is buried for keeping must not have been lost for the cause of decay or renewal but for the enunciation of life’s breadth, depth, length, width and longevity across the tapestry of linear, illogical space.

In moments as emotions collide with observation do we need adequate reason to weep for those tortured, fallen or enslaved? Must I produce sufficient argument for the tears that fall across my cheeks as gravity naturally pulls them toward the Earth where God may feel them, collect them and He, my Father feel the pain this world exerts upon me? Must I have known their struggle, personally familiar with their lives or is it adequate measure that they were a fellow humans fighting against those influences seeking their defeat or protecting the lives of those around them vulnerable to same assaults? Must they be American to find way to my compassion and mourning for their loss? Am I that discriminate that they must have looked, acted, believed as I do or shared the same nationality in order to provoke my righteous tears and indignation? Must they have lived according to my judgment for it to be Right and Good to honor their passing into the Hands of God? They were my Brothers My Sisters born of the Same Creator whether deprived by design or simple unfortunate birth into a nation that did not respect their equal value, they are still My Family before God. I am not angered by God’s Will having ended their short passing through this temporary life, I am fortified against those wicked few believing themselves merchants of life and disregard of those things God Loves Most, His Created People. If we believe as Americans that ALL are endowed with inalienable rights by their Creator then we must work to assure those rights across boundaries, ideology and nation. We must love beyond our own salvation and fight for the entry of ALL Creation to find their place of rest in God through Christ. No I need no adequate argument for the tears and stomach roil that now capture my heart, mind and soul. My Family has been murdered standing up for their rights and the rights of all men guaranteed in God’s Sovereignty. His Love for them is reason enough for any mourning and honor given them as they go to meet Him. Perhaps my own Love though secondary to His is all the reason that I will ever need to mourn the loss of any one of God’s Children to violence, pain or strife. I pray for them now and for all men before the hour when we go to meet Him for judgment, Mercy and eternity’s infinite residence.

Yes the changes are tangible, measurable to predictable. Yes, they will inevitably culminate the epoch of man in turmoil beyond calamity’s description. Yes, we must mount concerted and cooperated effort for global resistance to these changes that will bring down the world of man. Yes, there are deniers those who without logic without pretense with a deliberate intention to close their eyes, hearts and minds to the devastation refuse to recognize and organize to avoid the catastrophes which may be easily avoided. Yes Global change is necessary yes, there is a coming climate fluctuation to which current evidence predicts and historic evidence agrees. This is the Global Climate Change of the Heart to which God has bid us attend. If we do not turn from this global inclination of Empire we will be included with the Powers and principalities of this World

Have you seen them? Their behavior is quickly chided laughingly, excused or simply rebuked as a mistake of word choice. The acid tongue of hate for mankind, the contempt of our Brothers and Sisters without cause places us in direct conflict with God’s Warnings against giving in to our Sin and ignores His offer of freedom through salvation. They do not love because they have no love for anything but their lusts of self satisfaction. They are permitted this behavior because it is the shared behavior of the worldly. It is simply and deceptively concealed by the bulk of the body as they know its revelation will mark them with the fallen and label them cruel or organized against the Plan and Will of God. They are clouds without rain, a walk with concept of righteousness, firmly set against meeting God though they know it inevitability.

They consume the children, why because they have yet to be tarnished by the sin of this world. In their innocence they are both evidence against the wicked and something the foul must consume with avarice born of a hunger for that which cannot be defeated only consumed. They want innocence and can never again taste of its freeing breeze. They want truth in authenticity yet are so twisted with nefarious doctrine that they can no longer speak without forked tongue. They want the hope and bright eyes of youth but can only see trough the darkened horizons of those running from the Light of the World. What they cannot be they must destroy as it haunts them in the smiling faces of happy kids.

What evil must be understood to comprehend plans that for millennia sought, fought for, deceptively fenagled or enticed Man’s enslavement? What precognitive effort told men of power that they must gather all resources, assets, supplies and land about them in order to control the efforts of man on their own behalf, Super self actualization that may only be achieved by enslaving mankind to provide combined effort toward your impossible task. What stark contrast in revelation to God’s Sovereign Grace, as God employs His Power to free all men, Men of Wealth enslave men to achieve their own wicked version of God’s intention for Creation.

There is no climate change scientifically yet they fight for it claiming that the entire planet will lose life and limb if they do not accumulate power sufficient to mount Global campaign against it. Though passion’s applause be worthy they have again created Utopian, Hegelian outcomes for which they must employ the combined involuntary of the full of creation to obtain. Yet, they operate in folly consistently, perpetually believing themselves sufficient to unseat the God who created them. Armed by failed thinking and the folly of their own inadequate planning they seek to capture each man woman and child to use their life force, their backs, their combined treasure to bring about a World against which God is firmly entrenched. They would drive all men to fury’s door, even take them together en toto to the lake of fire simply to continue an argument with God that has been resolved thousands of years ago. This is the path of the misanthropes who would deny God’s Grace to humanity in order to make a failed attempt against the Sovereign Glory of God.

Shall we follow the foolhardy? Shall we align with the wicked in their frail attempt to conquer heaven and bring down God? Shall we relieve ourselves of reason and defy God’s commands forgoing the opportunity for salvation and Peace found in Christ to serve the lusts and whim of men who cannot look upon this reality or heaven’s clarity? Let US unwind through understanding, effort and humility before God their wicked planning for our future. Let US seek God’s Wisdom given freely to all who ask, that we may see through any veiled and mad attempts to fight the immutable outcomes of God’s Plan for mankind and the heavens. Let US align along side the children embracing their truth in innocence and proclaiming the foolishness of any attempt to resist the Perfect Will of God. Let US proclaim the Climate Change of Weather a FALSE FLAG of wicked intention to enslave mankind in an effort to resist the Sovereign. Let US stand in Good Courage with unwavering faith in God’s Victory knowing ourselves impervious to the fiery assaults of the enemy remaining free men with a Free Will given by God to choose Righteousness and eternity spent with God rather then be cast in the separation that awaits the wicked in their failed attempts to conquer their Creator.

The Lilly’s and the daisy doilies provided visual reminder that some are from an era bygone. her frailty frightened me as I imagined someone so tenuous so fragile would shatter if bumped hard enough or for mercy’s sake had fallen on solid flooring. I wept dry tears as she struggled to unstick her tongue from her mouth to speak, it sent me dashing for a glass of water just so I didn’t have to feel what I was feeling watching her struggle. In the interim, my head began spinning with the big ceiling fan that appears to be changing the barometric pressure in my nasal cavity. I wanted out but in the middle of my absolute horror I saw something that changed my life eternally, True Love.

As we lifted from the armchairs and gathered all the peach things and green bean jars she had shared with us we found the oddest temptation to stay forever. As if pressed back through a mobius pathway in time we heard stories of an America that to our knowledge just no longer existed. It made us pine, longing for something that we deserved and of which we had been unduly deprived. Foster Mae, she said it in the Georgian drawl that made you immediately ponder sunshine, pecans and wide depression style wrap around porches. She had lived, not simply plodded through life looking to smell the roses but lived, with dirt, war, blood, shame and glorious revival of which we could not hear enough. My right foot would not completely wake up and she smiled at me as I half dragged myself across the parlor toward the screen door patio.

She looked on as we walked toward the broad steps whitewashed recently, and remarked on the buckets of peaches sitting on the poor awaiting some manner of Southern Recipe to turn them into Cobbler or some other goodness. We stalled our departure only cause it felt so right to love up on this wonderful example of God’s reflection. It was hard to remove myself from the premises but when I got to the car and looked over at Gina, I had never seen a smile large or bright across that face. Something had changed us that day and I just wanted more. The vehicle lurched forward as my foot suddenly awoke and I found that my heart had changed in its rhythm. As if by some magic I felt as if I had been adjusted down a speed where things moved more slowly and that was alright with me.

When we got back to Reason, not thinking of what we’d gone through we stepped right back into the midst of everything as it was. The rage hit us as neighbors and their upset immediately scoured at us with their darkened hearts and dimly lit mosquito pots heckling us with tongues of fire from the edge of their watchtower. They had not moved or by any measure of memories provision changed at all since last we’d seen them. Same clothes, same dour look, same desire to catalog and report everything that each of us did that never seemed to pass their review. We took our peaches and the marmalade and scurried into the Front hallway, simply to remove the pain of their laser focus upon our shoulder blades. Oddly enough I think I check my jacket to see if there were any burn holes on the back then chuckled as I chided myself. Our house was silent, but an odd silence as if even the crickets and birds feared utterance for fear that they’d be located and swallowed entirely. Something wasn’t right and I walked the rooms to discover just what was out of place, but try as I might nothing presented itself ample focus.

That night we kissed and said our customary exchange of love and both stopped as if equally realizing that our meeting had permanently transformed us and the same old rituals were never going to suffice. So we stopped and held each other tight at first but then just cuddled and as I heard myself begin to drift into quiet slumber she went completely still within my arms. Awaking two stages from my previous venture I reminded myself how fortunate one man could be and as I listened to hear breathing quietly I knew that tomorrow was not going to be like any other day. Our lives had changed that day for the better, as if something had been missing that was suddenly engaged or replaced in the machinery making the product operate in perfect order. I don’t remember falling asleep but when we woke up the morning next we were still entwined in one big pile of arms and legs having held each other all night without moving even a couple inches.

I looked into those dark brown eyes and waited for her to speak because I didn’t want to flinch and be the first to break the perfect silence.

Poverty of heart is the greatest form of being poor. It may be tolerable to lack things as to some extent they may be generally equated with burden, but to misunderstand or dispossess the capacity to offer loving kindness or mercy rivals depravity’s depth. What form of life may be defined by the vapid mind lacking valuation of humanity? Dog eat dog, survival of the fittest may be expressed as scientific cadence when pointing toward or studying the origin of species or man’s pathology, but a human who truly adheres to these principles in society is one impoverished beyond reason and God’s Good Fortune.

The journey into the or travel within the cities of Man forces one to redefine those ideals which many rightfully considered or determined Norm. Depravity never rests just as poison never stops looking for a its newest victim. Eluding the framework of tension I move to strike emotion from the programmed response menu. However the governor overrides. Are there commands for which I have authentication or access. Am I shamed to be simply angry in my own surmising then reacquainted with the Watcher’s review that some behaviors are so detestable that they reside outside the pale of practice? Does God preclude certain experience that is so unacceptable that it is immediately stricken from the annals of man’s history? Are some things to bad, that they signal alert and God disallows immediately?

Have we been saved from going there? You know that place beyond insanity’s Nightmare, the quest for that which will immediately evoke God’s Anger and elimination, incarceration of disintegration from Creation? Is that the enemy’s objective to push the limit to a point beyond provocation where God simply cannot tolerate the level of evil even ten thousand lights years or dimensions away from His Holy Throne? Is there wickedness that can never be allowed? Reason being that there are angels that have done such acts so vial, so offensive to God that He has commended them to Tartarus until the day of Judgment. For the atheists who cry, “How can a Kind and merciful God allow so much suffering”. Have they now found answer that there are some pains that will awaken God’s hand of action ad immediate? 

What manner of mishap is built into chemistry organic or additive that it would seek to challenge its maker to react by pushing the envelope of cruelty or disobedience? What rebellion, born of man’s adjustment to his own creation that he may attempt escape God’s Witness and ordinance? How deep is the program of lust that it drags men to test every logic, each boundary, each mercy by pressing God’s Reaction to filth or unhealthy fervor? What is the counter drag upon vessel when nature calls it the heavens it seeks to burrow between the sands of time into hidden chamber of pestilence and shame? Why must we always poke God’s Eye? Is it not enough this blessing or must we always seek to be more than we have been blessed to become. Mutants, not super warriors or heroes but being capable of calling their own shots outside God’s temperance? What is the corrupt nature of man that we may not know the peace of contentment? Is this the rebel sin that cost Christ a death upon that Cross? If so how powerful and unmerciful a thing it is.

I see Lord that you may not have such things near you, for it draws upon your nature to eradicate it immediately. The purpose of this world and the fact that you must keep eye upon it are evident in consideration of how far from you things may depart. Forgive me for having any seed of that corrupt desire to command all that I see, touch and feel just that I may do that which is abhorrent in your scripture. I don’t want to be a rebel for the sake of expanding evil but for the cause of standing against evil to seek good. never having known the danger in the spirit of rebellion I consider myself educated to the nature of my specie to get outside the parameters of Paradise, always seeking what we have not been shown or allowed outside the gate even when we have been warned of its danger. This world makes sense. The way you had to conduct this creation in a timeline with control parameters of time and dimension now point to the perfect sense of your control structure. Without the boundaries of time and space we would have been the child loose with laser or nuclear device and no comprehension of its impact. Thank you for allowing us to grow and keeping watch upon us as we mature.

When you stay so long in the same rental working out of town for the family. There’s this strange accommodation that grabs hold of you such that you try to make the best of where you stay. But when you lay down at night and you’re far from your loved ones the things around become suddenly clear. This is not our home and were traveling through here it will be really nice to be where we belong.

I know that Jesus has left us in a position of service and authority while He’s gone to prepare us a home. The joy of being part of that family makes it such that we never feel alone. But we miles away from our loving Father and this place is really breaking down. It certainly will be nice to be back with Him and finally find where we belong.

We Belong to the Father and where ever He stands is Home. It’s not that we don’t love being with you but this old world is no longer our home. It is so nice of you to make steps to welcome us but I hope that you’ll understand. When this life is over all the people I belong with will live in the Promise Land. This ain’t home it’s just a promise that we are left while we overcome. All the things in this life except the love we have for you are temporary things to relinquish. We belong to another and can’t wait to get on home.

I remember that day, When you looked over and the tears at the edge of your eye made me love you all the more. As we danced I could feel your hands shaking and the sound of my beating heart gave me strength to carry you across the floor. And you were mine for as long as I could hold you, taking care to let all else go cause nothing would be the same. But then you left and my hands were left dry and empty as if the point of me loving so hard had always been a game.

This life marched on, as if it left me at the platform the carousel spun but the colors and fun were somehow gone forever. So I walked bye holding on to those moments when the music of love meant we would always be together. And you were mine as long as I held on to the memories of our great love gone wrong. But then I wake and my eyes closed and my fist clutching the pieces of my heart as I whistle our favorite song.

Take Her Lord will you keep her for me wrapped in your loving Grace. The days are long but that song calls to me Knowing this is just a race. Praise you Father for letting me love her and know that we’ll meet again. My Loving God away from both of you is something more than just a pain. It is a call to run as fast as my legs will push me to get across that finish line.

They came and they went, missing their Mommy forgiving me for never being the answer to the pain biting deep down inside. I never would have decided any different as great kids were a constant reminder of my Loving Bride. But the blue in my heart would have pushed me to treasure every breath every moment with you I’d spent. There’s nothing more precious than the Love God has for me and looking in those dark brown eyes I really knew what that love meant.

It came to me, all of the sudden and just as quickly I was standing quite lonely wondering where the time had gone. To be so happy and then live empty made it seem that all my heart and hope fell away at the dawn. But I had seen the light of Jesus in the face of the woman that I had the grace to meet, marry and love. Standing here strong cause I know before Long I’m gonna see that light before me standing next to the Good Lord Above.

Take Her Lord will you keep her for me wrapped in your loving Grace. The days are long but that song calls to me Knowing this is just a race. Praise you Father for letting me love her and know that we’ll meet again. My Loving God away from both of you is something more than just a pain. I stay here walking this path that you gave me looking for that finish line.