Gunwale grip, adjusting my eyes to get sight of land, knowing fully that a swim with the sharks may be fatal. Don’t have the desire to be mean, but sometimes you catch yourself on the edge of something different. What they do is not about you but about their own dances with the daylight.

Coaxing the boat to shore, I kid myself I am ready for more, but fully remembering how many times the rocks have caught us. A bit off balance and sad that things don’t often land upright, though the doldrums won’t last forever and we will find our way to brighter beaches. Ready for the sand.

Seeking summertime and the lazy days of August have taught us to stop, reflect and remember, even those distemper filled moments that left us ill engaged. Certainly would be nice to never argue again, however in this line of service they really want to figure it out and they are eager for scalps.

Easily upset a signal of guilt or unsettled conscience. The learning is never one way and fashionable for every one at the party. Some will refrain from discussion and robustly seek escape from the topic, but the price of conviction is either learning leading to change or avoidance leading to blame.

So precise the Lord’s intervention in moments where more words would have been less. The impact of emotion sets loose the arrows which should have remained in quiver. The tongue eager for opportunity loves to bite the chocolate as if it detests sugar, honey or the docility of indifference.

It is all okay especially when someone is seeking to revise their statements to provide an avenue or relief from the duty to be amenable. If we wound when we could have cooperated it sets in motion the removal of percentages. Leaving us free from contemplation or expectation of things turning fruitful.

These are all choices that demonstrate internal topography and declaration for the things of which we have not been made ready or decided along the way we didn’t want the moment. No one who can face the duty of pregnancy leading to the service of another life when they have an iron architect.

I will leave to God’s will rather than kill the rabbit for showing its pink nose too early. I am no longer afraid of words though they often sting the backside of baby’s history, they so often to lead to a mutually beneficial resolution that could have been cancelled by manipulation or the fear of failure.

It is right to be pleasant and skirt the desire to be hurtful. Many cannot look upon themselves in the mirror of their casting and the closest of friends will bury you in turf to find their way to not being responsible for episode. It’s okay in this safe space of being accountable for all my dysfunction.

For when the horizon is met I find that the man present in its pleasure looks so different than that man who ventured. It is okay to be wrong, finding a new song that doesn’t smell of either passion or depression. I seek opportunities, Divine ones in the blessings of today’s sounding measure.

Opportunities seized every ripened fruit squeezed, enlightened by freedom and seeing so far receiving the friendly waves as I leaped from my car. A bundle of avenues as I stray from the path not knowing which boulevard not village idiot dispensing false wrath. The mirth and the giggle resume at the tape, I tuck in my shirt tale and the edge of my cape. Note the extended monologue as evil seeks to escape. French fries in the oil and the cheese in the crepe.

A rye simple grin displayed above my false chin, as poets cry, great lovers try to write down the sonnet they just learned to play. Not a thing of great works, more a tale of two jerks, equipped to be stunning but stumble while running to wear our dessert on our best pressed blouse. Mouse and an elephant playing a role golf without clubs, a ball, tee or hole. Run to the cops so proud we just stole, the harmony, the blossoms and the bells and the ball so hot in the Summer just waiting for fall. Trying too hard to roll when I fall.

Just another even tide ten thousand miles from no where. With a mess of well rehearsed dreams and dinner plans, laying out schematics for fitness and tans to catch while we would and have while eating from cans. The beach and the playa are made of up of sands. To establish nothing from the midst of masterpiece and find wisdom secured in the depths of righteous pains. Dousing stains in soda and bicarbonate sauce we wanted the victory but accounted the loss trying so hard to establish to queen, king and boss.

Finely defining the moments of elation and dance too happy to find the time for romance to distant the scarcity to make our advance, stick to the water as it will be hotter than June on the moon and our hunger too soon. We ate when we wanted and drank really fast very little talent as we sought out the cast the world just our oyster our boat without mast. Imaginary distance too small to detail we belly flopped our dive and hung out on the swale took out the parsley and replaced it will Kale. The tell of the tape and reading the scale. Which was deliverer out beyond distant pale?

Replaced the fork with seasoned spoon a prayer for the mighty and red booted dragoon a day or two journey but leaving too soon we ran from the demons, the sounds and dark tune. As if someone chased us alone in our fear, hadn’t come up for air or to comb out our hair but just to be fair the fabled folk tales of childhood capture aptly the common sense and lock it up for Tuesday when Sunday long needed. Thick is the lawn when watered and seeded. A false of land when improperly deeded. Delight in the fight and the days leading to night hard to see from history through the lens with short sight. We that it moving comedy to suffer this plight.

Clarity of heart, cleansed by unmet expectations and the dangers of self protection. The Learning inevitable unless escape is your diversion. The host is challenged, seeking re-calibration to systems monitored. It is good to give things time and the dime well spent even when they were never intended to match lifted prayer. For we seldom know the way from here to there. Whether misdirection or path well tamped, poorly lamped and bit too cramped.

The Light of the World calls the shy to stand boldly, counted by the loud crowed in the middle of town central. Smiling while they point out the cracks, chips and dings, happy in the learning it brings, please as punch that the salt and light has made a Godly sort of things. There are always two perspectives even a path well traveled must be reviewed or renewed if we wish to use it for travels home. Which flower blooms in darkness or left in the shadows?

Mistakes are my finest art, making sense in all that falls apart, a brand new chart to catalogue the winding path to holiness, when a straight line should have been the path. Led by fear, pulled by bended ear, a lassoed neck, head and rear, directions were never given. There must awards for the most coin used, the worst path taken using all the wrong words and skills for those are my techniques mastered. Filled flesh waiting to be emptied Spirit.

Perfect timing, evidence of the Kings hand upon the sands of time. No longer chomping on bit but free to speak a tempered mind and take alternate route pointed out by the stout and wise. It is the size of the dog in the fight and what he ate last night that will win. Never should have failed so big, but small wins are still so pleasant it is hard to focus upon misgivings. We were once the Lords of air and a dream so fair sparking sweet the random tare, leaving bold and fresh to crimson kernels of hard ripened pomegranate husk and seed.

Standing so assured that we will never again face these dragons that rent our souls, but being honest in matured hearts that dances will be stepped, songs warbled and cases made for relinquishing or retiring to desert chambers. Yet here is the old age earned, the stories written and prime hearts remembered, in loss and infrequent victory. The hope remaining hidden in the small gift of days forgotten or cherished as we find our way to the better parts, where hearts are grown to healthy things, wings given and memories never made to rust.

No drunken or unconscious perspective of power that this man never had. Solely made by grace and the kindness of God and the people he leads to come alongside this ship sometimes holding on until dawn. That is a freedom, not owned but speaking the words of Wisdom and worship that others refrain from sharing. When we morning arise to the splendor and the Sounds of Freedom we may rejoice without regret and look boldly to the stars.

This is not promise of forgotten mirth. Being pottery I cannot claim ownership of pot nor content. Molded for purposes that I never could as a man hope to achieve. No if any of this is to be completed it must be a thing of the Divine Hand of God upon a handful of dust with Sovereign Breath breathed into it. Thank you Lord for reminding me repeatedly of the joy that comes in the knowledge of my making and purpose. Nothing from nothing is certainly nothing.

But we behold the galaxy streaming overhead. A parade in the majesty of God that some men stare upon nightly yet still discern nothing nor claim to behold the evidence of Almighty. To look upon miracles and the awesome power that created and then fail in acknowledgement is perhaps greatest failure in the machinery of mankind. It is not simply how we can fail to account for creative brilliance but the power that made all by a word is not to be forgotten. Trembling just in the knowledge of His existence pales in comparison to imagining being in His Presence.

Do I want to know Him without blessing? Certainly not. Do I want to strive against Him when He knows all my strength folly? Do I want to find a way around His perfect Will for the man that He made? No There is truly nothing for me without Him, not even the primary source of life. To think myself large when I am truly insignificant is a sad tale of a man who cannot see the dimension, the concrete, the light and weight of God’s sovereign control confronting him in the mirror.

I will not be that man. I am sorry for being that man even for brief ridiculous moments. This pursuit of Godliness is my greatest venture and realizing that it is also God’s Will for the man He made aligns me with His brilliance in realization. To see someone not only worthy of following but the Only source of reason, compassion and sanctification is a delight and a privilege to ascertain. This is not just duty of soldier faithful but the allegiance born of debt beyond the scope of payment and the knowledge that I didn’t have to worry as My Father had already set into motion the greatest gift a man may receive, deliverance were there was only the permanence of punishment in eternal separation.

Rocked permanently sober by choice and in recognition of Godhood. A being so powerful and loving that He allows me, sandals free to rest in His awesome presence, Then shows me protection, provision, purpose and promises of transformation beyond this chaotic, pitiful man without purpose struggling to conquer everything in sight to earn some self-significance. There is a place to which I am attending. A man if that is what we are called when we leave this mortal outfitting. A day where I am no longer led by my own paltry, simplicity and struggle that allows me to compete for the Divine aspirations of God in Peace and in a name of Power.

I will be that man by the Grace of God Almighty. Lord let me slip loose of the surly bonds of self-image into immortality. Not to be known as God or even in equivalence, but to be accepted into a relationship that has always here been beyond my reach, a Son, a Servant a Friend and Family to the King.

Father God, grant me Your Peace. The deaf look I receive from those who ought be warned percolates in my frontal lobe. I know that passion is no excuse for exasperation and that the flesh does not command the Will of God. Lord I find myself needing a greater depth of self control and patience to love them without expectation or behavioral change. I know that these things are not my job though I weep in the lack of preparation for the coming Wrath. Forgive my feet stuck in the miry clay and my mind that continues habitation in the World.

You give me things to share and teach, I often forget that the sharing of this direction and information is by choice, just as it is also by choice that they may choose to listen. Teach me to balance the giving and the lack of reception. I am here as vessel not as commander or judge. I want none of these other positions and am entirely comfortable with You being God, Jesus being the only Judge and the Holy Spirit begin the sanctifying voice of truth, hope and conviction. Forgive me for establishing the conditions where I have usurped authority not mine.

This day was hard and the whining voice of the man that died on the cross was shouting from his withered place on the Cross. I have been born again by Grace of the seed of Your Holy Spirit and truly await with joy the day I am fully sanctified of the man I was to become the man You have ordained I become. Please don’t let me become the greatest obstacle in this attainment. Father I am struggling with the position of authority or influence not with the power but with the weeping and emotional upset thinking that people are not hearing. It is Your voice they need, toward which I am to point them.

Lord this world is beginning to unravel the scarcity of fear of You, the absence of reason and the desire to go faster and faster until the vehicle is wrecked are prevalent. Yet again these analyses are not meant to be my effort or my counsel. I trust the Holy Spirit to guide all to the knowledge of the Truth where they find their place in the Family of the Most High. I am grateful to be a helper and thank you for not taking me away for my obvious inadequacy and my repeated sins of the eye, pride and flesh. Father take these things from me that pride may leave the exchange within my heart.

May Your perfect will be done and I pray that I be taught not to be a barrier but a guide, Brother and Friend. IN Jesus’ name.

A new set of world challenges suffered by mankind throughout history will refresh the character and enduring patience or rupture of modern thinking. People are being made ready for something at the tip of their consciousness, something many try to avoid or lithely describe as “spiritual”. Embracing the fallen speech of enslaving doctrine they seek anything that represents a harmonious development, even the depths of depravity and lasciviousness which promise only desperation and demise. For God is not the God of the dead but of the Living.

Few toughen their spirits against the dark rather pursuing in the caves and crevasse the long shadow dwelling monsters as they appear the strength of dark magic. Away from the light they entertain themselves in social bubbles hiding the sin that would recriminate them exposed to the light. Seeking any explanation manufactured or academic venturing an all in passionate expose of criminality, brutality and consequence believing that the streets hold the boldness to survive. When in fact all know that the farmer and the tenant living humbly in True Strength.

The bitter taste of blood and bile in the back of each mouth regret the defeat, fear and innocence destroyed forever upon the shoals of coming Hades. Yet, they coddle, blaspheme and bully any with un-defiled character to provoke the “survival of the fittest mentality lighting the fires of false bravado deep within. Not caring to prepare and rise above the storms of night and the fires of day they seek to find those who may be captured, tortured or consumed in short order. Ardently subscribing to the hope of the predator using the food chain for survival.

They thought John the Baptist easy prey a man living off the bugs and bees in the desert a harsh teacher. What causes men of city rules to imagine that those who dwell on the mountain slopes with sheep, keeping safe those precious few from lion, bear and wolf would be easily reduced to the fragile and vulnerable? What cowardice is formed in the hearts of young men that they despise those elderly few who fought wars living on the produce of darkened jungles or sprawling desert? Are we losing gene superiority by slow siphon of common thinking?

We are about to face the harshness of God’s Wrath having been built by our reprehensible thinking and action over the millennia of opportunity. He waited for obedience and sanity and was given a steady diet of contempt, disobedience and deception. How impoverished our stand and station? The blessed few showing the heart to protect in perpetuity the wonderful offspring of Godly marriage. The family familiar and tended by true wisdom as the seat of family survival in a world desperate to proclaim itself mad. Those standing ready love and shook their heads.

Always smarter people who play in the dark and don’t care about friends and family. Some lose these attachments reducing the things that go bump or visit unexpectedly. A thumb’s touch rotating up under the chin by the bottom of the ear the convergence of highways found. Shutting down one lane and its power source, destruction is not innocence but endurance.

There is no plan that accounts for the chaos of those willing to play roles of pure chance and hatred. Movement though often chosen as the tool of the fearful is often the best revelation of those things trailing in the background. Most wish to stay still, concealed comfortable having reviewed the environment for access and egress they wait for movement to reveal objectives.

It is hard to believe on nothing. Imaging that the creativity in your own mind is singularity separating you from the things that ground, connect and repair. True application of intelligence is realizing just how little it helps when fists, arrows or other projectiles fly. The dream is rebutted by truth in the midst of shame about having done no preparation in the physical.

What wakes the ministers mid sentence, but the conclusion or interruption have washed clean the perception of impregnability. Trash bags headed for the bucket an instant reminder that things add up and begin to stink as we play out we believe to be the normal. Chasing ideas the vast treasure of expectation lays bare that we really never considered air to be one of them.

No frailty in humility. The true strength of a man losing all inhibition, fear and bad decisions in the moments between fight, flight and celebration. All dances have a number of steps limited in this three dimensional plane. What happens to the psyche when it is educated to the Fourth. Clinical understanding lays crushed beneath the massive sledge of an oversized man’s clobbering.

Remembering that pain frees the ego from the next punishment. The movies portray men standing against each other for hours, when the reality is these things are done in moments. No speed and reaction not in fear but in massive redirection of force and matter with intention proclaim victors. On the ledges we find the solemn few who knew the front doors was inaccessible.

To the wind we committed our oaths and promises. Knowing that arrival always precedes delivery and objective. Climbing yonder mountain in advance of snowboarding or cliff jumping the other side prescribes there is always an order to things. Adjustments do not complete or master execution, overcoming all that is in your path allows you to sit or run as necessary.

We get their alone but we have always meant to be together at gathering. For that is God’s Will that all who belong to Him shall at some point be brought together in His Presence. Many paths, some believe they all lead to failure, some try too hard believing they must master every challenge this life offers. Some crawl, walks or run with rhythm expecting the Miracle.

Writing from a little heart, how does it seem so grand? In this dark and narrow hallway, I struggle to understand. Preaching to the choir nightly, because it feels so right. Teaching relativity and why stars so often bright. The lame one follows three steps behind.

The camera’s interrupted at Hollywood and Vine. Used to take the crimson path and smell the oaks and pine. Waterways and willow trees deeply sunk in sand. Put in a scroll tightly wrapped with the other things we’d planned. All the uses in reduction and oils so refined.

Edge of town with a sound, dry mud upon our boots. So inclined to read her mind, going backwards to my roots. Helpless and so feeble, redefined by life. The pitch so black and pungent making it hard to follow fife. Our bucklers were the chains of heroic dream.

Indelible, uneatable, leaping for the chalice filled with time’s sand. Barely caught a sharpened edge nearly losing part of my hand. So impressed by larger words, I spoke them when I slept. Ideas to hard to master into my mind they crept. Leaping in imaginary joy.

We taught ourselves the lessons we were told would make us big. With broken toes and knuckles we forgot to pay the vig. At least our reason splendid at last our tickle mused. We try to bribe the master but our efforts were confused. Slept on the doorstep in shame.

Our thoughts and devices so soon detected and deterred. The speckled bird once twice was heard in darkness quite absurd. We camped on yonder mountain, with smiles and troubled fountain. Only to find we’d lost then found our mind. Clapping hands and giving high fives.

Doing the thing beyond myself. Inclined to push until I see the blinding flashes. Not the theory of self-promotion and sucking all of the air from each room, but inclining my ear to know the right time to let go and ride the wind. What are we when we try too hard, but children not yet trained in surrender?

How do you puncture the envelope of programming? Letting go of limits set by another man or woman, becoming not being tougher, ruminating on colors just beyond the imagination. Oh, and places I’ve never been and many to which I never dreamt of going. What does a man of ten thousand years remember?

It’s all downhill in overdrive. Not drug or endorphin induced fused into a transformation beyond the realm of science and math. The impossible done smoothly, through the power of creation, not adaptation to overcome, overcoming by being. I am the sandbag carrying the man much too determined to please.

A long cycle of breathing in and out as if some exercise of the will forces me to accommodate the autonomy of everlasting. Have you let go of imagination or focused ardently upon trying real hard to live a bit longer than forever? What is muscle memory when this is the first time you’ve lifted metaphysically?

Too taught to understand the sublime reasoning for letting slack do the greatest work. Is everything even this side of heaven’s gate a process? It must be for in serving the Creator and Perfection their will always be gap between He and me. Or do we become some of the same stuff that holds together Boston?

I don’t really want to know everything. And I never wanted to be a God, just a guy lucky enough to spend my time with Jesus, finding out what I wasn’t able to see in the two way mirror of existence. There’s no cloud for me only the pathway to the next thing that He wants from me, another chance to love.

Obedience is the greatest framework for presentation and practice. Doing something miraculous because you listened to someone who knew precisely the right angles was always the greatest satisfaction, Even greater than success to me, because it took listening and duplicating something new.

For example money has always been easy to make with discipline to touch or not touch it in the right timing and intention. For example what if someone gave you a bunch of property, cash and assets but never told you that it was yours. Would it be more difficult to maintain knowing that it was someone else’s?

What if you truly knew the value of love and the things that you get to take with you? Would you spend any time at all collecting things that remain on this plane? The changing of perspective is accomplished in the relevance and internal valuation of time, space, matter and adverbs.

Is it you with whom I am meant to argue as if none of us has any say so in the matter? Is it now that I am supposed to fall in line with the scripting that a superior view to my own takes hold and we find our way to the paradigm shift? Is it time to quit, cave, walk away from hope, faith and charity that clearer superior thinking has determined there is a better future than the one we held close? Is it finished as Jesus said in the faithful moment upon Calvary’s Cross?

My leaking heart has spread and left the life blood of this expanse of time pooling in the dormant and frightened dark corners. Mortified, solidified in the quest to run as far and as fast as these throbbing legs will take me from the exceptional review of a life lived in purpose and completion. Tears larger than the hands which hold them poor emotional weakness upon the playing field of this one way journey. Too find a place where hope is broken.

That is not how God penned this dynamic event of our shared moments in this dimension. Living dreams that were spoken by God and Angels that men would have the courage to stand this ground, making it Holy in our worship of the one thing beyond mankind. The One who made us with a handful of dirt and nostrils filled with his breath. He proclaimed us in a moment on the sixth day and yet we refuse to return the courtesy of a mirror. We declare our Kingship.

I suppose that it is the least damaging thing I could do to lock step my way into enacting the least courageous decisions any man could make. Staring down a place, even a minor role in Eternity in exchange for a bunch of people who never liked me approving of my actions on someone else’s behalf. There is no wisdom in our passage, no logic in our clarity and no purpose other than self-loathing in our actions as we exchange truth for lie and everlasting for grains of sand.

Doing it alone, the furthest thing from my imaging and the least desirable as this life has been painfully short on the love headed my direction. Ironic that I spent most of this quest trying to please those who could never ever get enough, holding their cards close to their chest as if love were a bribe, leverage or scarce among humans. I will not be that man, and in fact the rub has been I never could be. Trying so hard to deny that I was the one that loved all of you.

Expecting nothing? Perhaps, but more likely the fee or reward is not available here but hereafter. All I want for you is in declaring that priceless relationship you hear the declaration of His love in return, those wonderful words and the recognition that He admits to knowing you all along. For me this is forgone conclusion. I know where I am going and am so overjoyed at the realization that I must admit I would stay here if He needs me to make that choice.