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Showing posts from October, 2013

I am Used to Seeing Blinded

love seems to fill everything when my eyes are adjusted but until then I scower the world looking for what’s already here could I catch a glimpse of what You’re showing me of Your sweetness, of Your truth then in one moment i realize how blind i am (and was and very soon may be) what would it be to be consumed by You, the All-Consuming Fire? i have a feeling You’ve made Your way around the world and it is i who am hiding.                         i am used to seeing blinded. 

You and me

You are eternity and chaos written on my heart with felt tipped markers of silver and gold, You’ve written Love like i've never known— it could make my mind explode except for the little child hiding in the corner who hears you writing and runs to find the source but, oh my, too bright are the words! yet You step from the light and in fatherly converse receive little me into All-You, “My son.”      “my Dad.”                  true.                  this                     is                    truth.

Known in Unknowing

Known in Unknowing swing low             sweet chariot coming forth to carry  me home swing low sweet chariot coming forth to carry me home. the flow             the violent flow of quiet unknowns             helps to settle the nerves             and stretch hands             for home in greater knowns. which find me stripped,             running free inside             revealed in the light of all-knowledge             pass the gas lights                         the street lamps             even the storytellers straight to the heart of life.             the majestic sun, the wonder that scars                         and burns and skips rocks across my heart proceed in abandon, unwise decision             silly and wreak-less notions             of the human condition                                     inside all perfection. shout all you see, all you know of him— and swear you’ll keep clean in a better heart; in perfect seeing, what is hidden? nothing! so what is imperfect in

What Darkness Means

implanted word, a faith seed from where the end of the world has broken. off, jagged spires shoot sideways into the space between reason and faith. stabbing at air, pointing to stars, as the overflow of the world piles downward, screaming with the agony of a thousand wounded children, am i among these? can i hear the broken cry, the awefuul movement of the oppressed, looking into a black sky, a no-star night—why must Your clues be so hard to find for so many? (and me) i am balancing on the spires edge and talking as i take a step into the blackness…             oh God, i wonder,             do i really believe this?

A Great Exchange

down the alley, we met             a short conversation, full                         of looking questions             a strong affirmation, wait                                     breathe and step, every move                         in restful action,                                     leaning on a eternal note                                     answering us with Love, affection, true admonition             we left in Him, like a journey                         but less.             riding in His pocket,                                     as a child, or a friend                                                 in troubled times                                                             rides a friend…             except this was adoption,                         and we call Him Father,                                                 and not “when” but always we stay in             His pocket, as we travel                         the streets—waiting to be