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!
~ This poem is 85% bible verse. Yet it is written against the institution of religion. It is a shaking fist (My shaking fist) against the religious hypocrites of this world. It is Me, entering the “den of thieves” and declaring this temple of God (My Being), can not be bought and sold for gain! Beware the snare of religion, “the kingdom of heaven is within you”.
I had to leave my body As it were I was destroying it With my mind In the stillness of the cosmos It’s vibration roared Reminding me of its presence This energy of Life That reawakens the awareness Of the One I Am And heals All
~ Nothing can stand broken in the awareness of One
I came to the wide and open space of darkness Which for a millennia I had feared Touted as a place of death and destruction Very few ever even neared And it’s true I died there in that place So many ways in which my ego seared A hot and burnin hell consumed my creation ‘Till underneath the god in Me appeared For all beliefs that hid Me from this Knowing That dusty casement of illusion disappeared And shining there in all My reigning glory I saw that All was One to be revered
The cloud enveloped me A milky white encasement Drawing out the darkness In swirls the shadows withdrew Dissipating into the outer body My essence embraced those sorrows The immeasurable fertility of pain Supercharged my Being As the body succumbed to the healing A wave of white energy covered All