return to your first love

Hallelujah;
I am a VESSEL,
a TREE, a LOVER,
a FREE-THINKER, and
will SPEAK TRUTH.

For I am LOVED by a
very GRACIOUS king,
who RESCUED me,
and bids me live with my
EYES CLOSED AND HEART
OPEN.

To live purposefully, illuminately, is my calling.
My hope.
My peace.

little thoughts

Kind and loving Father,
no spirit higher than my soul can I give You.
No worship more than admiration can I pass.
Just little words from a corrupted heart, tiny hopes amidst
barges of dank and putrid sin.

Like tar, thick and grotesque, sin clings to me,
cemented under my teeth, in the spirals of my
nerves.

It cannot be combed out by human hands or wishfulness. Nor
by active ingenuity can we swipe clean our
goopy slates.
We are dirty; the heavy period has been placed
at the end of our unpardonable sentences.
Sentences to a justified termination.

Life is not ours to claim. As if WE had control.
Our matrix is our desired realm-imagining that we can steer the wheel,
make the grade, reach the top.

But the realness of our reality is what troubles me the most.

The truth in between our drawn-in lines of fiction terrify me because we mostly choose to NOT
recognize it.

That man without God is nothing. Not even is he dead, because there ne'er was life.
And yet Life came.

A gift. A breath. A tangled mass of matter, like webs,
covering and linking and building a body with an
active mind,
a fleshy heart,
and a luminescent soul
locked inside.

Life.
Founded in a world intended to be experienced through the
eyes, ears, tongues, nerves.
A world created for the total interaction between the species,
the elements,
and most especially, the God of
heights--
Whose imagination poured forth each organism with such creative genius that makes one gape in
awe, fear, respect, and unquenching love.

Love. A tast of God's blood that is the essence of life.
Conditioned to love and be loved,
the pursuit of such things both make and destroy,
enhance or tear down.

Love is the battery that makes the point of living
so clear.

And such a lifestyle, such a state of being is a thing to marvel over.
And be grateful for-that we, the human collective,
were not made robots called to "serve" a master who
delights in mechanical, soul-less obedience.

No! With love comes choice, a powerful
intentive steering wheel, a
gift to acknowledge in sweet gratitude.

Hosanna to our gracious king for mercy and such simple, yet profound,
thing as choice.
True love, we see, is composed of making decisions.

Will I love that person when I am tired, sick, or fed
up with them?
Will God still love me when I am tired, sick, or fed
up with Him?

Questions-a series of questions and answers.
Answers come from sharing questions with other people
who have had other questions like yours.

Bless those.
Blessings unto God for our fellow members of the species.

Love, questions, answers, choices.
Faced with those of the current generation, we garner knowledge
from each other, to live a life of
MORE awareness.

And together we link in a beautiful arrangement and
(are meant to) look to our glorious, harmonious, ingenious
master artist,
who synced our spirits with His when we were raised to life.
Let us therefore step into
immortality,
to sing our songs with the ethereal stars,
and LOVE our creator, and love
each other
without
hypocrisy.

taking time to waste it

Stuck in my head like music,
like lyrics that flow and move
and have meaning.
Like lines from a movie, that
voice is so clear.
over and over in loops,
cartwheeling between my
hemispheres, until,
bleary-eyed,
I rise before the sun, not
exhausted
but
excited!

Wanting more; hungering after it.
Surely it will come;
Surely I can appease my anticipation with some fanciful dream
or maybe the passing of time
will help to curb the realized enthusiasm.

But when poetry flows so
freely and necessarily from
my pen, such energy
cannot be destroyed, so much as
misdirected.