Cold

dark, gray, rainy morning,

the cold burning pain,

runs down my tired,

trembling leg,

old memories slither forth,

lost and forgotten thoughts,

ooze from hidden cracks and holes,

silent friends, whisper sweet hellos

into well tuned ears;

fight or flight?

outside the winter wind blows,

the running feelings return,

the get in the car and start driving,

while never looking back voices

start talking;

so many years,

so many battles,

does it never end?

does it never give up?

stay with me Father,

hold my head above the fray,

protect me from unseen enemies,

let my eyes see the light

of one more precious day,

make the cold winter wind,

on dark, gray, rainy mornings,

fade away;

lead me through this darkness,

help me to make a stand,

protect me once again,

with Your mighty protective hand,

for I have forsaken Your

wisdom and righteousness,

silence the mocking voices

whispering inside,

never let me go,

never let me forget,

that for You,

all things are possible;

bring me home to You Lord.

.

.

Agendas

it becomes hard,

separating friends from foes,

good intentions from bad,

truth from lies;

in a world ruled by flesh,

humility is replaced by pride,

issues clouded by agendas,

clarity overcome by confusion;

egotism and self-glorification,

hidden within the face of love;

You have witnessed it all;

every dark, angry thought,

every sinister, evil plot,

every treacherous betrayal,

every late night denial;

remaining silent at the accusations,

withstanding the pain and lies,

loving when there was no love in return,

giving when there was nothing left to give,

forgiving when you had every right to hate,

walking the path no one else could;

sacrificing Yourself for the whole world;

Lord, I have nothing worthy of You,

I am but filthy rags in Your presence,

fit only for death and destruction,

Your love goes beyond my comprehension,

Your mercy more than I could ever deserve,

help me to forgive those with selfish motives

and hidden agendas,

help me to love those who do not

deserve my love;

help me to be like You.

.

.

My Home

we hide inside our houses,

dreaming of the tomorrows,

imagining the possibilities,

running from the darkness,

mystified by the mystery,

trapped within the illusion,

waiting for the destination;

forever seeing,

but never knowing;

forever hearing,

but never understanding;

if it were up to me,

I would stay in this place,

seeking shelter from the storm,

swallowed up by the myth,

drowning in the depths,

growing cold from the emptiness,

guarding Your truth,

like a rare and precious jewel,

but Your grace knows better;

Your will demands more;

I am searching for my home,

but I don’t know how to get there,

so I quietly wait in the wilderness,

running from the ghosts,

hiding from the demons,

praying for a tomorrow;

my home is neither here nor there,

not ahead or behind,

not without or within,

my home is in a land far away,

a whisper on the howling wind,

a flicker in the candlelight glow;

close your eyes and it is forever gone;

my home is nothing,

my home is everything,

my home is all there is.

.

.

Job 38

Then the Lord answered Job out of the storm. He said: “Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer me. Where were you when I laid the earth’ foundation? Tell me if you understand. Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know! Who stretched a measuring line across it? On what were its footings set, or who laid its cornerstone – while the morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy?”   Job 38:1-7

O Lord,

how mighty are Your words,

how vast is Your wisdom,

how righteous Your judgments;

my mind cannot comprehend the greatness,

my thoughts cannot contain the immensity,

my knowledge is but a fading mist,

all my understanding but a drop,

in the enormous power of Your

raging fire.

.

.

Out in the Wasteland

is it possible to write

and still maintain integrity,

or am I only fooling myself?

do people really want to hear

mysterious confessions,

hidden deep within

crazed, carnivorous caverns?

lost fantasies,

beyond moral redemption;

who cares?

you want drama?

you want unspoken promises?

you want flesh-filled, flailing

among pieces of uncontrollable stench?

you want madness in the shape of art?

I hear they’re having a sale at Walmart;

questions, questions, questions,

searching, searching, searching,

one surprise after another,

most never get past the door,

some barely hear the answers,

others quietly bury their head

in the burning, sinking sand,

then there are the rest;

sleeping,

eating,

shitting,

locked-up alone

in silent solitude,

never making a sound,

never giving a clue;

dying without a chance;

that’s how it is,

out here in the wasteland,

the price

of doing business;

the cost no one

can afford.

.

.

Sitting in a Mall While Growing Old

“For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.  What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul?”   Matthew 16:25-26

“The man who loves his life will lose it, while the man who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.”   John 12:25

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have everlasting life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe stands condemned already because he has not believed in the name of God’s one and only Son. This is the verdict: Light has come into the world, but men loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil. Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that his deeds will be exposed. But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what he as done has been done through God.”   John 3:16-21

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”   John 16:33

it’s not easy growing old,

but then again,

it’s not so bad either,

there’s a calm sort of peace,

sitting on a bench,

in the middle of the mall,

drinking a cup of coffee,

watching people pass you by;

knowing that it will all be

over soon enough;

you start to see the egotistical

agendas behind it all,

for the first time

you begin to understand

the futility;

and it’s just not so bad;

the curtain is pulled back,

the illusion disappears,

the Holy Spirit speaks,

and you realize;

nothing of this world matters,

everything is temporary,

everything is changing,

yet everything remains the same,

all the selfishness, pride, ego, emotions,

feelings, lust, fear, anger, frustrations,

greed, are just self-absorbed hypocrisy,

coming and going,

growing and dying,

fading with each moment

of passing time;

that there is a truth much larger

than life or death;

we fail,

because we choose it,

drowning in the madness,

running from the light,

blaming it on destiny,

making friends with the prince

of this world,

wallowing in our self-pity,

crying at the hopelessness,

preferring the darkness,

hiding from the truth;

we fail because we choose it.;

without Jesus, there is nothing,

He is the vine,

we are the branches,

the beginning and the end,

the Alpha and the Omega,

the great I am,

the Truth, the Light

and the Way,

through Him do all things exist,

through Him are all things possible,

no man comes to the Father

but through Him;

praise His holy name forever!

.

.

Morning Crows

the crows come early on the mountain,

between 6 and 7,

arriving like an invading army,

complete with advance scouts,

privates and generals,

a secret society of mystic warriors,

ancient and old,

wise beyond wisdom and words;

they like the shelled peanuts

the best;

the day passes by,

the ball of fire

inside my chest grows,

choking breath and life,

I search for strength,

wondering how much longer,

how much further,

but it passes just the same,

gathering myself for

another round,

a new day;

more crows;

the rains start to fade,

the floodwater recedes,

the heat begins,

relentless and unforgiving,

burning within,

until there is nothing left to burn,

sucking the last ounces of energy,

destroying everything it touches;

the memories drift by,

like trapped debris,

within a gently flowing

river current,

floating and bobbing,

becoming stuck in long forgotten

log jams and curved muddy bends,

sleep finally comes,

tucked in-between the

sweat and coughs;

and the only thing that matters,

is the morning crows.

.

.

Death

he puts the gun to my head,

the fear sets in;

“do not be afraid, just believe,”

the voice from behind

quietly whispers;

“look into my eyes,” he says,

“it will make it easier;”

as I do the fear passes,

he pulls the trigger,

the light slowly fades,

the darkness grows;

falling;

“I love God,”

“I love Jesus;”

nothing.

.

.

The Way, The Truth, The Life

Jesus answered: “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you really knew me, you would know my Father as well. From now on, you do know him and have seen him.”   John 14:6-7

truth;

when the last breath has been breathed,

when the fantasies and illusions are stripped away,

when the impostors and wannabes have all faded;

what else is there?

truth does not come easy,

it lies hidden among the wreckage

and excess baggage,

simple and plain,

without motive or agenda,

without prejudice or conditions,

no compromise,

no faltering,

no respecter of persons,

truth is not dependent

on beliefs or faith,

it stands sparkling and clear,

shining like the sun,

in the eyes of a child;

truth stands alone;

many claim truth,

twisting and turning facts,

attempting to fit preconceived ideas,

creating vast empty empires,

complete with testimonies of

flesh and blood,

monuments of self-glorification,

exercises in futility,

deceiving themselves and others,

with grand ideas and philosophical

babble,

crumbling like dust into the

morning mist,

but in the end truth remains,

in the end truth will be all there is,

in the end there is only

one way, one life;

one truth.

.

.

You Deserved Better Baby

like a great and mighty storm,

you blew into this life,

powerful and raw,

giving everything, baring all,

holding nothing back,

your fire burning brighter

than a million suns,

raging and blazing,

somewhere just on the edge

of control,

but still, it was not enough;

you deserved better baby;

all you ever wanted was for

someone to understand,

someone to notice,

someone to hear,

someone to hold you in

the darkness of the

cold, black night,

someone to share just a small

piece of the lost and fading light,

instead they pushed you aside,

mocking and laughing,

voting you the ‘ugliest man on campus’,

spreading rumors and lies,

taking pieces here,

breaking pieces there,

using you up,

until there was nothing

left to use;

you deserved better baby;

you should be watching your

grand babies grow,

holding them,

teaching them to sing,

sharing that incredible laugh,

baking cookies for Thanksgiving

and Christmas,

holding a good man at night,

saving the best for last;

you deserved better baby.

.

.

Goodbye

there is silence now;

once there was laughter,

once there was joy,

we played whiffle ball

in your backyard,

shooting baskets after school,

jumping off diving boards

in Kentucky,

camping out and staying up

all night,

sneaking into the drive-in

theater through the

hole in the fence;

life went on,

and so did we;

there is peace now;

no more struggling,

no more pain,

no more tears;

goodbye my friend.

.

.

.

.

than you

I have written many things in my life,

thought many thoughts,

fantasized many fantasies,

dreamed many dreams;

but none of them

are more important,

than you;

I have written of imaginary lovers,

and foolish ideas,

all of which

seemed so important,

but were nothing,

nothing at all,

when compared to the love

that we share;

you are the reality,

which has kept me holding on,

(to this life),

for more years

than I can remember,

yours is the touch,

I long to feel,

the voice,

I long to hear,

at the end of the day,

when nothing seems real,

when nothing is true,

as all the thoughts and ideas

go drifting away,

like smoke

from a burning campfire,

you are the part of me,

I can never let go,

no matter how hard

this need to destroy

everything that I touch

has tried;

there is no one

I would rather be with,

than you.

.

.

more

she has been by my side,

for more than half her life,

she has been my lover,

my best friend,

the part of me

that has allowed for survival,

in a world so dark and lost;

she is my strength,

my foundation,

I need her

like the dawn

needs the sun,

like the night

needs the moon,

the light

which guides the way;

if I could,

I would give her more;

words cannot say

what her and I have,

nor can they replace

this life that we have shared,

she builds me up

when I am down,

she continues to believe

in us,

when I give her no reason;

if I could,

I would give her more.

.

.

home

sitting in this greasy,

all night,

Michigan redneck, cafe,

sipping on dark, stale, coffee,

listening to the local philosophers,

as they eat their breakfast,

on their way to dry-walling,

and other assorted craft jobs,

indoors of course (getting to cold for outside work),

discussing the beating death

of a Wyoming fag (their word),

and how the poor ole boys who did it,

will never get a fair trial,

with all the negative publicity,

and what is this world coming too,

when you can’t even bash

a few fags around and get away

with it,

after all, they was just having a little fun,

they didn't mean to kill the little fucker,

(chuckles all around);

while listening, the thought occurs,

that with just a slight twist of fate,

I could be sitting at that table,

with all the other small town know-it-alls,

discussing world politics and Wyoming fags,

and it is only now that I realize,

I don’t belong here anymore,

just as the swamp lands and muskrats

of South Jersey do not belong here,

this place I once called home,

has become just another town,

full of strangers I no longer know,

nor care too;

this place leaves me feeling

so empty and impotent;

I think of my wife,

the woman who has been with me,

for more years than I once lived in this place,

the woman whose touch still electrifies me,

the woman who has become my one constant,

my only reality,

the one thing I can depend on,

together we have built a new home,

free from the interference of family

or friends,

she is where I belong;

she is my home.

.

.

Overcome

Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.   Ephesians 6:11-12 

Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everyone. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord. On the contrary: “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.” Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.   Romans 12:17-21

in the depths of my carnal mind,

the master of darkness softly speaks,

quietly searching for weakness and flaws,

silently planting his evil seeds;

seeds of lust and temptation,

seeds of doubt and fear,

seeds of hatred and anger,

seeds of revenge and retribution;

corrupting and twisting the truth,

clouding all that is real,

tearing down and destroying,

until there is nothing left within,

building walls and divisions,

between my brother and I,

putting words of venomous hate

on the tip of my imperfect tongue,

attempting to devastate and waste

all that is good,

all that is pure,

all that is holy and righteous;

all that is from God;

You patiently discipline and rebuke,

until at last I am able to understand,

providing the light for my blinded eyes,

while gently holding my trembling hand,

guiding my feeble and wavering steps,

as I slowly learn to stand;

raise me up above the filth and mire,

hold me in Your mighty arms,

remove the darkness surrounding my soul;

teach me to not be overcome by evil,

but to overcome evil with good.

.

.

Do Not Fear

I took you from the ends of the earth, from its farthest corners I called you. I said, ‘You are my servant’; I have chosen you and have not rejected you. So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.   Isaiah 41:9-10

alone in the shadows,

lost with no way home,

frightened and confused,

heading for destinations unknown;

do not worry,

do not fear,

God is near;

in the darkness,

in the light,

within the sorrow,

within the joy,

through the suffering,

through the pain,

through times both good

and bad;

do not worry,

do not fear,

God is near;

all things pass,

all things fade,

but His mercy endures forever,

His love knows no bounds,

so rest your tired head,

my troubled and

frightened child;

do not worry,

do not fear,

God is near.

.

.

Deliver Me

within nighttime dreams,

I walk in cold, forsaken places,

dark, dead lost places;

far beyond the reach of hope;

I listen to the suffering,

I hear the sorrow,

I feel the pain,

I know the emptiness;

they are places through which

I have walked before;

when I awake,

You are there,

standing by my side,

never letting go,

never walking away,

renewing and healing me,

blessing me when I deserve nothing,

forgiving me, when I cannot

forgive myself,

reminding me that without You,

I can never overcome;

deliver me O Lord,

from dark, dead places,

lost and forgotten places,

hidden within the shadows of dreams;

take away the emptiness

as only You can;

hold me now,

bathe me in Your light,

fill me with Your love,

surround me with Your glory,

let me belong to You forever;

my Savior,

my King,

my God,

my Everything.

.

.

for the best

perhaps it is for the best;

that;

I never knew you,

you never knew me;

I would like to think your

life has been better as a result;

I can only hope that

you are happy,

that your life has been full,

that you've grown up

to be a good man,

a good father;

this is the only gift

I can give to you;

for now it is simple,

everything sharp and clear,

soon enough, these words,

will be twisted into

something more,

something else,

lost forever,

in this never ending charade,

that we all take part in;

we shall meet one day,

in another time,

another place,

I will know your face,

you will know mine;

I will be waiting.

.

.

SON

somewhere he waits,

and I listen,

as the silence

grows painfully louder;

SON;

I wish I could tell you

that you’re mine,

but you’re not and

never were,

still there is that bond,

and I guess that is the way

it will always be;

SON;

I wish I could show you,

the beauty of your

shining sisters’ smiles,

I imagine you must be

very much like they are,

except they are mine,

and you are not,

and never will be;

SON;

I make no excuses,

for the things that took place,

and I wouldn’t have any,

even if I did,

to be honest,

it didn’t have a thing

to do with you,

as hollow as that may sound,

it’s just the way

things worked out,

but still I do remember;

which is more

than I left to you.

.

.

home

sitting in this greasy,

all night,

Michigan redneck, cafe,

sipping on dark, stale, coffee,

listening to the local philosophers,

as they eat their breakfast,

on their way to dry-walling,

and other assorted craft jobs,

indoors of course (getting to cold for outside work),

discussing the beating death

of a Wyoming fag (their word),

and how the poor ole boys who did it,

will never get a fair trial,

with all the negative publicity,

and what is this world coming too,

when you can’t even bash

a few fags around and get away

with it,

after all, they was just having a little fun,

they didn't mean to kill the little fucker,

(chuckles all around);

while listening, the thought occurs,

that with just a slight twist of fate,

I could be sitting at that table,

with all the other small town know-it-alls,

discussing world politics and Wyoming fags,

and it is only now that I realize,

I don’t belong here anymore,

just as the swamp lands and muskrats

of South Jersey do not belong here,

this place I once called home,

has become just another town,

full of strangers I no longer know,

nor care too;

this place leaves me feeling

so empty and impotent;

I think of my wife,

the woman who has been with me,

for more years than I once lived in this place,

the woman whose touch still electrifies me,

the woman who has become my one constant,

my only reality,

the one thing I can depend on,

together we have built a new home,

free from the interference of family

or friends,

she is where I belong;

she is my home.

.

.

One Flesh

“Haven’t you read,” he replied, “that at the beginning the Creator ‘made them male and female,’ and said, ‘For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh’? So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.”   Matthew 19:4-6

what began so small,

has become so great,

what once was two,

has been joined as one;

one love,

one life,

one truth,

one flesh;

you are the one

my heart desires,

you are the one

who makes me whole,

when you laugh I laugh,

when you cry I cry,

without you I would be lost,

without you I would be alone,

without you I would be incomplete;

no one but you and I,

understand this great and

magnificent miracle,

this deep and hidden mystery

that our life has truly been,

a beautiful, wondrous, blessing of God,

for which I give continual thanks;

what God has joined together,

let no one put asunder,

as it was in the beginning,

so shall it be in the end.

.

.

Just Believe

Ignoring what they said, Jesus told the synagogue ruler “Don’t be afraid; Just believe.”   Mark 5:36

in the middle of the night

I awake,

gripped with fear,

overcome by the immensity,

afraid of the unknown road ahead,

thinking of all the possible dangers,

unable to control even the smallest detail,

completely inadequate and out of control,

heading on a collision course with disaster;

then I remember the places from where

I have come,

all the doors that have been opened,

all the chains which have been removed,

the love and grace that has brought me

to this place,

and I hear His soft, cool voice,

gently whispering in the

nighttime darkness:

“Don’t be afraid, just believe.”

the fear fades away,

the doubt dissolves into nothing,

the darkness turns to light,

there is only love,

there is only Him;

and that is all that matters;

in the deepest depths,

on the highest heights,

He is there,

guiding my path,

showing the way;

the Friend who stands by my side,

closer than a brother,

the King who laid down His life,

that I might live;

the One who I will love

forever.

.

.

Ours To Choose

“Never again will they hunger; never again will they thirst. The sun will not beat down on them, nor any scorching heat. For the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd; he will lead them to springs of living water. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” Revelation 7:16-17

We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to our own way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all. Isaiah 53:6

For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Ephesians 6:12

I have found a home here,

for good or for bad,

for better or for worse,

it may not be much,

but it is mine;

I sit on my porch,

I feel the warm sun

on my face,

I look at the mountains,

I listen to the crows;

this is my home now;

it’s all there is,

it’s all I need,

it’s all there ever

will be;

I do not know how

much longer it will last,

it is beyond my control,

it is out of my hands,

but I will rest here,

for as long as I can;

I am tired of who is right,

who is wrong,

choosing sides,

blaming one,

justifying another;

we are all wrong,

we are all to blame;

you,

me,

them;

‘those people;’

we are all liars,

murderers,

thieves,

cheats,

hypocrites;

it is in our blood,

it is in our dna,

it is who we are,

it is what we will be;

we are all

something less;

there is no wrong side,

no right side,

there is only self-righteousness

and arrogance,

or mercy and grace,

our will,

or God’s will;

it is for us to choose;

now there is weeping,

now there is anger

now there is fear,

but soon enough it will be

no more,

the shadows will fade,

the misery will no longer exist,

the sadness will turn to joy,

the darkness into light,

the tears will all be

wiped away;

we will be home at last.

.

.

Sometimes Now

“tell me Gilbarto;”

she whispered in my ear,

on a warm sunny morning,

as we lay together,

her body resting

softly in my arms,

“what is the price to be paid

for simple existence,

in a world

that demands more?”

“so much more;”

we both knew our time

had almost passed,

as all time passes,

in a world ruled by time,

but still we clung to one another,

hoping silently inside

that maybe,

just maybe,

this would be the one

that would not pass,

even though we both knew

it would;

I thought on her question,

and decided there was no answer,

that it was as open ended

as the tomorrow

we both would face,

I thought of my life,

where it had been,

where it was going,

what it had learned,

and came to the conclusion

that it too

had no answers,

a mass of swirling contradictions,

neither beginning or ending,

drifting like the current,

with no known destination;

I thought of His life,

so pure and perfect,

His words,

so simple,

yet so strong,

sharp, crystal truth,

far beyond the boundaries

of our limited human comprehension;

He is the king

of us all;

I pulled her closer,

stroked her hair with my hand,

tomorrow she would board a bus,

and her and I

would be no more,

but today

we were one,

even if it was just a moment;

sometimes now

has to do,

in a world where tomorrow

never comes.

.

.

Today Will Have to Wait

I started to get dressed,

instead, all I could do,

was lay back down;

today will have to wait;

that is how it is,

when the clock runs down,

but it continues to move,

so there is still hope;

on television,

angry crowds protest,

screaming words of hate,

little children stare out

a bus window,

wondering what they have

done wrong,

to be the objects of

such maniacal wrath,

when the truth is,

they have done nothing,

except be born,

in a world where might

makes right,

and wealth demands privilege;

the mob stands firm,

in their position of moral

and political correction,

their comments,

their words,

their agendas,

their motives,

their ulterior objectives,

their over the top protests,

silently gives them away;

in it all,

there is fear,

in it all is self-preservation,

in it all is greed;

I no longer participate

in this self-illusion,

this mockery,

this secret subterfuge,

this moral dilemma,

it is what it is,

nothing can change it,

nothing can undo it,

darkness knows not mercy,

evil has it’s day;

good people,

blinded by hate,

drowning in the cesspool

of their own self-righteousness;

today will have to wait.

.

.

Nothing Can Ever Be The Same

the rain comes at last,

the storm has been brewing

for days,

for weeks,

for months,

for years;

a lifetime;

changes come like lightning,

the new creature emerging

from under the spotlight of

iniquity and anonymity,

the metamorphosis complete,

the way back,

closed forever,

the way ahead;

lost in the melodrama;

down in these sewer pits,

drunken monkeys rant and rave,

rampaging through the

dark, eternal night,

precious time

and energy spent;

gone forever;

words?

Rimbaud had words,

Morrison had words,

Bukowski had words,

I have words;

I have no need for theirs;

I observe them like a disease,

just a glance here,

a taste there,

carefully preventing infection,

swallowing the antidote,

puking up the symptoms;

now,

nothing can ever be the same.

.

.

I Dream in Words

I dream in words;

multi-colored,

multi-layered,

red, white and blue,

star spangled bannered,

words that cut,

words that whisper,

bold and beautiful,

bright and shining,

melting like candy,

dripping like honey,

flowing like a river,

on its way to the sea;

pouring down like rain,

a delightful deluge,

nourishing,

replenishing,

giving life where

there is none,

providing hope,

speaking mysteries,

hidden since the foundation

of the world,

running from the day,

disappearing into the

night,

smooth and cool,

fresh and light,

a precious gift,

tucked safely within

this secret hiding place,

like fine pearls,

or dazzling diamonds,

living,

breathing,

pulsing,

everyday a little closer,

everyday a little further,

just a little more,

just another taste;

I dream in words.

.

.

how many?

how many?

they knew the truth,

they put up the fight,

they never stood a chance;

how many?

so sad,

so very sad indeed,

just pawns,

unintended consequences,

part of the grand illusion,

simple stooges,

in the great, give-away;

how many?

your touch,

intoxicating,

smooth as silk,

liquid glass,

irresistible,

they could not resist;

how many?

.

.

Next

“Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.” “Come,” he said. Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!” Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?” And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”   Matthew 14:28-33

one more lesson,

one more obstacle,

one more weakness,

one more time, I begin

to sink below the surface;

once again, You grasp

my hand,

once again, You pull

me from the depths,

once again, You teach me

to overcome,

once again, Your power sets

me free;

the world continues on,

wars and rumors of wars,

death and destruction,

joy and laughter,

greed and self-satisfaction,

vanity and pride;

none of that matters now,

the flesh slowly dies,

only a fading mist,

a disappearing shadow,

I am finished with it all,

there is nothing more

I need,

there is nothing more

I want,

all that matters now is

what comes next,

all that matters now,

is You.

.

.

All That Matters Now

once I could do things

most people only dream of,

I could run with the wind,

move like a cat,

hit 90 mph fastballs,

I had strength,

I had power,

things most know

nothing about,

I took it for granted,

I thought it would last forever;

now it is all gone;

now I struggle just to move,

I fight for every breath,

I strain to hold on,

I live for the next meal,

my stomach aches with every bite,

I long for the past;

I search for a way out;

life is not fair,

it does not provide justice

one way or the other,

some have more,

some have less,

some have nothing at all,

there is no guarantee,

there is no certainty,

there is no balance;

life is an illusion;

it does not matter now,

it has come,

it has gone,

all that matters now

is what comes next;

all that matters now

is You.

.

.

Through It All

Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you really know me, you will know my Father as well. From now on, you do know him and have seen him.”   John 14:6-7

I have been on both sides of the fence,

I have been everywhere in-between;

physically,

emotionally,

spiritually,

financially;

I have worked for hundreds

of thousands of dollars,

I have worked for minimum wage,

I have tasted a life of privilege,

I have known the hopelessness

of poverty;

I have witnessed first hand,

the devastation of losing

everything;

I have worked at a desk,

using only my mind and fingers,

I have worked back-breaking jobs

that no one should have to do;

I have seen people at their best,

I have seen people at their worst;

I have entered dark places from

which very few survive,

I have stood on the edge

as the god of this world

quietly whispered in my ear,

"take just one more step";

I have seen demons,

dark and evil,

drive past in a car,

as I rode a bike

down the road;

laughing,

mocking;

I have talked with an angel,

her name was Vena,

she held my hand,

as I lay in a hospital bed

having a heart attack;

I have seen people destroyed

by the very things from which

I was saved;

through it all,

You have been there

for as long as I can

remember,

quietly watching,

softly calling,

patiently waiting,

through it all You have

lifted me up when I could not

stand on my own,

saving me when no one

else could,

protecting me when no one

else would,

through it all You have

given me an education

that no college could provide,

no amount of money

could buy,

teaching me humility

and compassion,

helping me to stand,

allowing me to fall,

showing me the illusion

surrounding this world,

the lies that trap so many

who do not even know

they are trapped;

no one makes it out of this life

without You,

no one comes to the Father

but though You.

.

.