~ This Mere Dust

I am but a breath, a mere word spoken,
And soon forgotten.
Like the dust that blows easily –
In a soft wind it is scattered.
Who can know such a One?
Those whose lovely deceitful smiles hide
The false flattery of their mouths?
They say what they do not mean and
Their actions are far off from their words.
He has blinded their eyes and hardened and
Benumbed their callous hearts.
But who are they who have set me in derision?
Does the strength of their hand profit me?
These mere men – whose ripe age and vigor has perished.
Like a rabble brood: they jostle me and push away my feet
Casting up against me their ways of destruction.
Oh, How they break up and clutter my path!
Yet they have no helper – No power to trample this dust –
Who is He who has raised me from the dead?
Who has freed me from my burial wrappings?
There is no Rock like my God.
For He is the Lord of knowledge
And by Him actions are weighed.
How many times have I been filled with words;
Yet the Spirit within me constrains me?
You have saved me from the snare of the wicked.
You have made my ways a highway of pleasantness,
And all my paths a way of peace.
I have watched the ways of the wicked, like a deep
Darkness, they do not know over what they stumble.
They walk by the light of their self-made fires
And of the sparks that they have kindled for themselves.
Who is my adversary? Let him come near to me.
I will seek out those who contend with me,
But I shall not find them; they shall be as nothing.
Where is the talebearer and he who sows strife?
The whispers of such separates even close friends!
And where is the evildoer who gives heed to wicked lips;
And the liar who listens to mischievous tongue?
They fled the rebuke of the Lord like chaff before the wind.
Who is he who will condemn me? All these sinners,
And who among you will cast the first stone?
I have searched and poured over the scriptures diligently,
Yet the beauty of the words do not contain Life,
It is the giver of Life that produces the beauty of the words!
All these things taken together, shaken up, measured out
Have not equaled to the fullness of the Lord!
A man can receive nothing except as it is granted
To him from heaven – there is no other source.
But boundless is the gift God makes of His Spirit!
Thus, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven
Over one wicked person who repents than over Ninety-
Nine righteous persons who have no need of repentance.
Well let the trumpets blast in heaven!
For out of His fullness I have received one grace after
Another and spiritual blessing upon spiritual blessing
And even favor upon favor and gift heaped upon gift!

ALL FOR ONE WICKED SINNER – THIS MERE DUST!

 

What would it take to fly?

angel bird

How calculatingly insidious the evil intentioned ones have crept into our homes, into our minds, and thereby caused us to disregard our emotional compasses. Have we traded love for logic and discarded each other so unobtrusively that we have lost ourselves in the process?

It is a sad time when we value an intangible belief over the individual. You can stand before me, with all your overblown rhetoric and spout your ideals with great vigor, but you will never, ever be able to laugh, hold or cry with those dissipating words. That kind of lovelessness flees before me in an empty vapor.

I have no time or energy for those who hold so strongly to a belief that they have set up between us like a barrier. If you build a wall between us, you can be sure that I will simply step away. My heart bears no destructive forces for the breaking down of walls that others have built – when there are so many people who are eager and receptive to love.

If you were brave enough, you could examine your own beliefs. And if you were strong enough, you could eliminate those that did not serve you. But a fortress does not feel secure without its walls, and what would become of you if you made yourself vulnerable to your own fears?

I wonder – might you plummet to the very bottom of your own heart and bleed out every lie you’ve ever believed, only to find yourself so light and free that you could then fly?

 

Blindness

How can a memory create something new?
I am propelled forward by what has come before
I refuse this – this stagnant propulsion.
I’d rather go nowhere else, if not somewhere new
I would just as soon be still and die right where I stand
Than continue down this path of sameness!

I did not come to be guided and molded by what was already here
Nor did I come to be a follower of the dictates of others
It is because of this that I have lost my clarity of sight
To travel the unknown is to be veiled in darkness and uncertainty
From this point forward, let me go in blindness
I will be the spark that lights the way, one step at a time

And to all the hungry travelers I meet upon my way
With your slouching shoulders and your drooping mouth
As you crouch along your safely lighted path
I will scream a song of death to you as I go by
Perhaps it will be enough to kill you where you stand
And you too can rise in blindness bearing witness to a world anew!

Vexation of Spirit

I can see Solomon from where I Am
In this time of mine so far removed
Yet there he is none the less lamenting
What a travesty that him and I could
Not meet and cry between us
All the useless trappings of man
I would demand – “show me this god of yours
Who gives wisdom knowledge and joy”
Yet he would not see Him in Me
Because he never caught the wind
Though it Be inside him all along
For all his wisdom – did he never
Think to look there?

Deception

Her name was deception,
And she wore the mantle of pretense like no other.
There were daggers hidden in those pearls of white
That smile cuts deep – beyond any place of earthly healing.
She brandished her manipulations veiled in compliments.
Each one a burrowing maggot of uncertainty,
Rotting the flesh that once thrived.
Killing relationships, one by one,
Her own insecurity driving each death!

~ And the fishing! Oh, that fishing!

First she lured you in with carefully crafted concern,
And once that bait was taken, she jerked the line
That she so callously tethered to your heart!
The hook was torn with malice as she tossed you away,
The love she scorned left swirling in a pretty pool of red!

~ And the reflection! Oh that hideous reflection!

For the first time I see what I had refused to see!
Her face! Not the phony, pretty, pretending one,
But the one behind the lie – with the grimace that she hides.
It is marred by derision and fear. Now I see
That awful, suspicious, cold heart of wanting!

~ And my outstretched hand in a state of pause!

I wanted so much to believe the lie.
How I wish I could unknow a thing – To put back that apple!
But now it can’t be helped.
One day I will surprise that liar.
I will strike that fakeness, and watch that porcelain
Mask shatter to ruins at my feet
My red palm dripping into a pretty pool of red
Revealing at last that things which are seen
Are not always made of the things which do appear!

Proverbs 17:4
Wrongdoers eagerly listen to gossip;
liars pay close attention to slander.

The Only Seed is Love

I came to the shallow grassy moor
Where the stagnant waters stilled
And the stale air the breeze did wield
Stoned me with the heaviness that it bore

Crestfallen as I had come to Be
Flowing away – my strength did yield
I found myself falling – dying on that field
Laden with grief, and nowhere to flee

Down I went kneeling in those untamed reeds
As all my worldly notions – they were killed
In the emptiness that found me – Truth revealed
“The only seed is Love, it fills all needs”

I was alighted in that moment on the moor
Where my life was stopped, and stilled
My heart brimming with mercy as it healed
And Loved me with the heaviness that it bore

Morning Haiku

~~~

Coffee thrills awake.
The morning sun takes notice,
rising to my whim.

~~~

The eye always sees
the cultivation of thought,
and responds in kind.

~~~

Dawn settling in.
Music springs from the silence,
with soft flapping wings.

~~~

Imagination,
conceived the impossible,
then created it!

~~~

Mastery of words.
Colors print in black on white,
beauty for the mind!

~~~

Love’s Eternal Source.
The Truth of darkness revealed.
I was always Light!

Open Graves

I saw them there among the caskets,
Buried deeply ‘neath the hard packed earth
And the sleepers in their tombs bedded down
Their slumbers, forgotten as they turn to bone
And yet the many open holes were dug and left
A site no one other than me seemed to see
The people gathering, one by one – dropping deep
Into the slow death of life – and no one heard them
As they screamed from their open graves.

She spoke no English – I, no Russian.
But we sat in silent smiles,
drinking tea – the years making us friends.
One day, dropping the kids at school,
“it’s froggy out,” she said. I pause, then nod,
“Yes my friend, it is froggy out.”

“Gift certifercate,” she said.
What? I asked. “I need a gift
certifercate.” Standing beside me
in his unknowingness, he corrected her.
Me quickly jabbing him in the side, interjecting,
“Right my friend, gift certifercate.”

Memories of friends long moved on –
The blending of lives and loves, of cultures –
Words melding with new meaning –
Little gems that glow and glint my mind –
Endearing the past to my present with joy –
By way of froggy days and gift certifercates.

So come! Come with me my love, and sit
awhile more – let us remember those
small treasures, those flawless imperfections
that entangle us so completely in our humanism.
Let us muse a little longer of days past
As we linger here in your favorite anacondriack chair!