Kindle a new fire

on the first day

lit from the cold ashes

of my sordid past.

Tear all that lingers

seared on my flesh.

Bring me away, bleached

bones, from long sands’ reach.

Remove this despair.

Unleash my fear.

Wed faith to my cries.

I have left thy side.

Bring me to ashes,

bent neath the dust

in a blackened robe

rough, bitter and cold.

These wandering eyes

my beating heart,

call them to new death.

End this endless breath.

Blind me with your hand.

Diminish me

into the shadow

behind the cold stone,

pierced and famished,

alone in ashes,

till you recall me

parched for want of thee.

This comes from the sermon today on Jonah 3:5-9 and Psalm 51.  Repentance.

Can’t seem to wrap my mind

round those final feet

in this my inevitable

with all my desire

I cannot bring me to care

they have not beat me

though one could not tell

from the weariness in here

I have in my eye

this thing I cannot see

this weakness, tiredness

that is relentless

untiring

and I stumble

I mumble

Forget the dreams

forget these memories

I’ve banged my head

against this wall

strained for this

for all these thousand breaths

and it will not shift

perhaps I will not shift

I talk to myself

aloud, to my followers

of weakness, tiredness

my mind relentless

untiring

still, I stumble

I mumble

Fix me

lift my countenance

to meet yours

drift this transom

to face the setting sun

abandon this strait

to meander free

unfetter me,

lift anchor

all bills are not paid

set me loose

Still talking

out loud

took seven days

to finish just one

too long, too long

these words, these breaths

shift my colors

I’m tired, tired.

__________________________________________________________________

Ever have one of those days when

your glasses are crooked on your face and no amount of adjusting will work?

When you’re convinced that your face is just too oily and wash it a hundred times to see if that will fix it?

When your nose itches and won’t stop, regardless the socially unacceptable actions you take to resolve the issue?

When you stare at the same thing you’ve done for 10 months straight, every single day, and can’t make sense of it?

When you walk home at precisely at half the speed you would normally, making 10 minutes into 20, talking to yourself the entire way?

Have you ever recited, to yourself, the litany, “whatever, dude,” over and over maybe a hundred times in the span of twelve hours?

When is the last time you reviewed your condition, your moment as-it-is-right-now and said “This is not me, not right, not welcome?”

This, in ever increasing frequency, is the sort of day that haunts me.

I am truly tired.  I was tired before, but this is tired beyond that.

I don’t want to be tired.

He gave them this promise: He’d come back again

I don’t frequent the YOUTUBE thing much, but I got distracted.

Here’s a wake-up song for you in the morning.

Here are the words:

1. Once on a hillside, people were gathered
Hoping to see Him as thousands were fed
He touched the blind eyes, healed broken spirits
He moved with compassion, and even raised up the dead

2. Once on a hillside, people were gathered
Watching as Jesus was crucified
No one showed mercy to one who had healed them
Yet Jesus loved them as He suffered and died

3. Once on a hillside, people were gathered
For Jesus had risen and soon would ascend
But then as He blessed them, He rose to the Heavens
And He gave them this promise: He’d come back again

(Chorus)
We shall see Jesus just as they saw Him
There is no greater promise than this
When He returns in power and glory
We shall see Jesus
We shall see Jesus
We shall see Jesus just as He is

Wow. I’m kinda going to have to surf through the rest of the collection of The Cathedrals now. I could play this in the house from time to time.

I love good tunes.  I love tunes with good messages.  I’m a fan of Jars of Clay and The Violet Burning.  I love (thanks to my Anika), Hoi Polloi and the Newsboys.

Some of those messages in those songs are personal.  They mean a lot to me, but they probably don’t make much impact to others in the same manner as they do to me.

This song, “We Shall See Jesus” and many others like it, though “quaint” and crusty old hymns, have not just a treat to ears of all ages, but a treatise that everyone can hear, imbibe, and live with for all time.  Don’t let the old songs fade.  There’s forever-truth in “Amazing Grace”, and “Eternal Father, Strong to Save”, and “It Is Well With My Soul.”  You can’t just find an equal replacement for these songs at your local music store.

Don’t like the oldies?  Print out the lyrics and take a minute to read.  Then decide.  Even the 70’s and the lame-o Gaithers have something to say.

That all being said, one song which still impacts me the most, Every Time I Hear It, is “Worlds Apart” by Jars of Clay.  People hate ‘em and others love ‘em, but I’m just going to say that they’ve put in a nutshell some of the things in my prayers.  It’s a message about flying, falling, failing, praying.  It’s pleading for transformation, whether we see the need or not.  It’s a simple cry for repair that only the Lord can provide.  We all want Him to tear our little, soiled, failure-soaked worlds apart.

So look to the lyrics, look to the original version.  Here’s one I found on the UT for you:  Listen to ‘em.

This whole chapter is about obedience, but I am thinking most on the passage from verse 17-26 in particular.

Lots of darkness has been looming these past few weeks.  I am thinking all the time of what good words I can craft together to make wise and encouraging statements to all my suffering loved ones.  What has held me back? How come this blog and the email fog haven’t been stuffed with my prayers and thoughts?  I have a low level of confidence right now, I think, primarily due to an overwhelming sense that I just don’t have the connection to or the right amount of personal importance to say much.

What’s that mean?  First off, I just don’t comprehend some of the trials that are around me.  I can’t wrap my head around things like depression and misery that attacks so many of us.  I’m sure I suffer from mild forms of it from time to time, but I don’t feel like I have experienced it or understand it well enough to be able to be of any value.  In response to the heartache all around, what I have to offer is prayer.  I’m sure I don’t know what more to do.  So often, I come across as preachy (or at least think I do), and “holier-than-thou” in my words.  It’s never my intent, but happens anyway.

I could send cards all over the world.  Pretty Hallmark junk with smarmy gook that really means nothing.  I could type up long letters of “I love you I love you I love you…” but that just doesn’t make much sense to me either.  I figure whatever I do would potentially evolve into a self-deprecation episode just to make the recipient feel better because they’re not as bad off as me.  “If my misery is worse than your misery, then you must be okay, right?”  Believe me, I’ve done that plenty of times before, and it’s downright stupid (as well as lying both to myself and others).

And this little article is just rambling along.  I’m trying to get into a groove that will open up what I want to say.  Not sure if that’ll happen.

Look, if you’re down and you’re in the dark; if all that seems worthwhile is worthless, if the things that drive you just took you off the pavement and into the brush, it just doesn’t seem of any value for me to remind you that I love you, that I’m thinking of you, that I’m praying for you.  Many of us are all praying for each other.  Many of us are thinking of all the ways we might be able to encourage each other.  And we all either goof up the attempts or give up on them before the attempts are even made.  When the chips are down, the crowd scatters, apparently.

Here’s what keeps me going when I’m battling sin or loneliness or whatever else burdens me here.  It’s a roller-coaster battle here in FarFar Away, with good days and rotten ones.  I remember the claims in the Word here, like this one:

“If you should say in your heart, ‘These nations are greater than I; how can I dispossess them?’  you shall not be afraid of them but you shall remember well what the Lord your God did to pharaoh and to all Egypt:  the great trials which your eyes saw, the signs and the wonders, the mighty hand and the outstretched arm, by which the Lord your God brought you out.”

He did for them and promised the same to us.

In short, the whole of chapter 7 can be summed in a little bitty memo-sized comment:

• FROM: God
• TO: You
• SUBJECT: Stopped by while you were out of the office.

• OBEY.  DO IT LIKE I TOLD YOU.  THEN EVERYTHING WILL BE ALRIGHT.  YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE AFRAID.  I ALREADY DEMONSTRATED WHAT I’LL DO FOR YOU TO PROTECT AND HOLD YOU UP.  YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE AFRAID.  EVERYTHING WILL BE ALRIGHT.  DO IT LIKE I TOLD YOU.  OBEY.
• ACTION:  Please Return Call

I can’t stress enough the things that I hold most valuable in this little life of mine.  I am not very good at keeping them in front of me, but they tend to serve in a crisis:

1.  Material things are junk.  Enjoy them.  Despise them.  Be responsible how you use them.  Whatever you like as long as they don’t interfere with your relationship with the Master.  They’re gifts from Him, not replacements for Him.  YOU CAN’T TAKE IT WITH YOU.  I always WANT things.  I always want BETTER things.  I always do BETTER when I stop WANTING things.  There are few things I should want.  Take all the crust and toppings away and here’s what I want:   MY HEALTH, MY FAMILY, MY GOD.  All the colorful bits swirling around me distract me from this simple list of three things.

2.  When crisis hits, there is only one way out.  A Christian knows what this out is.  Do it.  There is always a Godly choice, and to choose anything else is going to end up likely worsening the whole thing.  Even if the Godly route is WAIT, there is one, and it’s there.  I don’t do well with this unless it’s a real big problem.  Little ones are just as important, but I have the faulty habit of cruising along until I get into neck-deep hoo-hoo before looking to God for the answers  Literally, when the pain begins, I must drop the toys I’m holding and run for the hills wherein the Lord’s will awaits.

In Matthew 4:18-20, Jesus enlists His first disciples.  They drop EVERYTHING when He calls them.  No grabbing the keys or loose change.  No quick donning of overcoats or looking for the cellphone.  They up and left, lit a shuck, DESERTED their immediate activities to follow Him.  They were called to a lifetime of service, and see where it led them?  We are called to do the same thing.  Every day we are called.  In this material world, it’s like every morning is the same scenario that happened ONCE for the first disciples.  We’re at our business, oblivious to everything when suddenly Christ calls us up, and, like Groundhog Day, it happens OVER and OVER and OVER, every day of our lives.

Moreover, we trust too much in people.  We put our faith in them, rather than in our Lord.  There’s a big difference between trust and TRUST.  When I compare myself, base myself on the people around me, there are two possible results:  I’m either inadequate or I’m superior.  Both are wrong.  I must look at myself through Christ’s eyes, and then I will see the truth of me.

I am most certainly inadequate and hopelessly helpless in comparison to God.  Yet He has given me hope, help and value.  I am His tool for His work.  When I am not acting like a proper tool for His will, I am a failure.  I must keep myself sharp, well balanced and clean.  Most of all, my condition is all the “payment” I can offer for the incalculable blessing and sacrifice that He made for me.  In Romans, the very first two verses of chapter 12, my condition and why I should be as He commands is succinctly laid on the table.  Because it’s my new status as a child of God.

“I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service.  And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God.”

I, you, we, all live too much in the world.  We fret, we hobble ourselves, we flay ourselves, we weep and gnash our teeth in our little hells, for we fail to comprehend what God has done, what He has ordered and what He has promised.

Parting thoughts:

Though the pain is an ocean,

tossing us around and around,

You have calmed greater waters

and higher mountains have come down.

I will sing of Your mercy that leads me through valleys of sorrow to rivers of joy.

Return to the Word, all of us.  Open our minds and hearts to our Master and despise the trickery and misery that this world insists is our nature.  We are Not Of This World.  Here is my prayer.  That we pursue Him instead of us.

“These tears I’ve cried, I’ve cried a thousand oceans.” But we can take joy despite our tears, for none of this is forever.  The darkness will fade as the Son rises to claim us.  Just remember, He’s already done so, and all we’re waiting for now is His personal visit to bring us to our Only Home.

Flashes from long ago…

That won’t fade away

—————————————–

Trimmed these sails

To light in your port

Then danced away

Fear, just me

Same as ever so

Twixt these twin shadows

I am not torn

Yet have these relics been only

One a wound as will not close

Twins adored

Riddled to shreds

My heart and my mind

I’ve walked me to a spiral

That loops returnt to itself

Of touches unendured

O lust that betrays me

Let me distill this dream

For I touched not thy tresses

That last time so fair

Though twas cold bitter cold

For fear or was it fear?

For some thing I dared not again

O why did I pull loose

This anchor when not half set?

Open these arms this time an’ I return

Two shadows

My sails have harbor’d

Between thy ports

Mooring in but the one

Though the other left fair trade

O let me be, cursed dreaming

Let my breath be my own

Or let down thy slip

Let me mind this fair haven

The dark one that has haunted me so

Think this paradox?

No but painful

To dream to lift this fair veil

Of the white

Of the fountain

Of the longest long lingering

Let me come here

Or throw me to the stars

And let me ne’er hear again

Nor see with these eyes

These browning lands ever.

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In the desert our water-spoiled senses seem to come to life.  Days can go by without a scent of water or clean, moist earth.  Shade under a desert tree that’s recently had fill of rain is completely different from that of a building or overhanging stones.  The scent of water in the desert is not easily explained without some sort of poetic sense.  It’s like breathing life.  It is coolness and a refreshing that has a physical impact.  Sometimes I feel like I can touch it, maybe even see it, that shimmering sense of wellness in a place that appears dry and dead.  I love this in my desert. 

I think you, each, are my sense of life in my little desert-mind.  That essential water that, though beautiful and wonderful anywhere in the world, is far more in the corners of desolation, distance and endless days.  The sky may be filled with dreams, but the life is found here, here at the waystation and shimmering oasis of this one’s visions.

Up, up past the ridge of vision

The line of sight at the bronze edge of the world

Little moments, little words I find to savor

I have dreamt

To surround you with wisps of shadows

For I cannot cure them with my own

Tender breath upon your shoulder

And for fear of touching your pain,

Gentle fingertips upon your hair again

Let me take your tears upon my face

Wrap as translucent silk my arms about you

Simple light against your dark lace

Without the intense

Crush that burns and freezes the breath

Just presence

The hurt won’t fade, I know

Nothing that I can do, I know

But may I plumb the depths uncruel

To share the shades of you

That seem to come out in these years

With whispers that none of us can hear

I would hear this

This long story from long ago

With your lips to my cheek speak slow

In that tiny voice you possess

Simply be

Render this to nothing

In the motes of dust

That enchant the morning sunlight

Let me be your waking

Your wishing all this was not hurting

Let me miss the whole point

And it fly to oblivion

Just some little dream now

Surrounded by hands and arms

Motionless, courting solace now

Holding together you and your dark

Your shawl

To hide your face

Your silent call

Just that place

That stands still

Just in case

I will

——————————————————-

This has a lot of different applications

though crafted with one in particular.

Some long thoughts.

Some old Gurp.

Just wishing things could be better, hurt less.

Oh, Permalink: My Anthology, poetry: Paper Screams

I’m finally putting the book together.  You can help by visiting the site and leaving your suggestions!

________________________

Ailah

has the sun at last
begun to shine
have the stars finally
decided they are mine

and will I see her rising up
like the sun that is in my dreams
for I have had only my dreaming
until now, until I saw her dreams

this loneliness has been too long
and so much have I missed her
and now this faint love song
and a sad kiss are in the air

and I shall swear
should this sun rise
or never be there
I am my beloved’s

and I shall love her
and these tears have found a home
and she shall love me
and no longer are we alone.

___________________________________________
I sang this song when I found her
I sing it to this day
I could not be happier

I am alive!

Oh I love you.  I love you.  I am alive.

Let us walk the sides of this endless mountain. 

Let us lose our balance at the summit and tumble into the powdered snow.

Let us flee the setting sun into visions of the dawn, of waking

In this, this poetry of bright forever,

I would wear a thousand quills to dust in words of you. 

Let me bring you to my place, that of sky blue and forest green. 

Let us walk arm in arm down the long hills.

We shall savor the sunset, chase shadows among the stars. 

We shall chase these children as they fly with the wind. 

Let us live. 

We must live.

I adore you. 

You are mine and you have saved me. 

I see no shadow alone, but with you, o my own. 

We see the shades together, and we are each other’s.

I love these things,

these whispers that you and I share.

We have our paper screams, our own world’s attention. 

We have our touch.

We.  You, me. 

Desire me as I desire you. 

Touch me in return. 

Bring about my sweet demise in your dark eyes.

You.  I dream of. 

I dreamed you. 

I wrote of you. 

I ran to you.

And you are here. 

Alive. 

I am so, right now. 

Keep me. 

Preserve me. 

I last not long, for but a flame am I,

a matchstick with but moments of vitality. 

Ere I fall to ash,

lift me to your lips and taste me. 

Burn with me. 

Lift this breath together with me. 

In arms. 

In vision. 

In souls.

Shake this mortal cinder. 

Chase me among the canyons. 

Seek my voice. 

Find me in the shadows. 

Find me in the crystal clear pools. 

Find me in the mirror of the night. 

Take me.

Let this flight be our last. 

Let it last forever. 

Let our breath never die,

our gaze never fade,

our love never falter.

Come with me.

Come.

Course the horizon

Dust in our memory

The setting sun

Shall burn through our rough robes

We speed in the wake

Of distance

The sand plumes

The whipping grass

Is pure sound

Whipping at our fleeing figures

We fly, we soar

Wind is nothing

We create it

We are wind

It howls in rage

As we Burst through this trail

On our quickened souls

To nowhere

To everywhere

We see no water

No sacred rest

It is the pounding

The sifting dream

Of desert in our ride

The dunes

The ridge

Ghostlike

We pass them all

For this is the ride

Ride of lifetimes

You’ve seen it

You’ve seen us pass

Did you join us

In our flight

Our passion

Our departure

We sailed upon the seas of sand

We savored the hard sweat

The span of the world

We touched the horizon

We touched the depths of the depths

And we seek them again

Ride with us

Ride beside

This caravan fleet

This fiery wake

Of dust

Passion

Ride

Begin

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