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Two Cities, bitter enemies;
Two Cities, truest foes

The First was from eternity,
The Other from the shadow

The First descended from the sky,
The Other from the ground

The First had but a King on high,
The Other Creation crowned

Both Cities do contain the whole
But One contains it all

Both Cities do contain the whole
But One contains it all…

.
Listen, my son…

From the womb every man
Builds his cities and towers
From the strength of his hand
And a will that devours

But his kingdom’s a breath,
And his rule, an illusion,
Disappearing in death –
The revealing conclusion...

Man is "king" of a land
Between his right and left ears!
He thinks: "my throne is grand!"
But his decrees, no one hears!

He will gather great treasures,
But will never have any;
Will pursue many pleasures,
But will always feel empty…

Always longing for more,
Never having enough;
He’s a slave and a *****
To his master: his stuff
---
Oh, may The King set him free!
He alone holds the power!
And may all bend the knee,
For, we need Him each hour!

.
I don't even know your name,
But I think I know something of
The state of your soul,
My Dear Poet Friend...

For, we're all stricken with
The same disease

A poisonous venom
Which courses,
This very moment,
Through all our veins

A disease for which I have found
But One Cure

---

And I must warn you,
My Dear Poet Friend,
Not to look so long
Into your own heart

For, there you will only find
The disease

.
In the Garden, by the Creek,
Stands a Tree –
A Weary Willow, weeping, in
A prayerful plea:

“The scoffing Oaks hold
All their leaves,
But mine wither in this winter;
Don’t You see?!”

But, oh, what She
Doesn’t yet know
Is that, now, below the ground,
Growing down, and reaching out –

Hidden to sight or sound –
Are her Roots, preparing Her
To bear a thing no Oak has ever known:
Fruit.

---

So, may Her weeping turn to singing
For spring is bringing
A New Beginning
…In the Garden, by the Creek.

.
Once, when I looked
At “Things Unseen”
I saw Them not
No in-between

For things that They
Said "stood in Light"
Were just as they
Had been to sight

And time and time,
And time again:
No, nothing new,
That had not been…

I felt the Sun
Upon my back,
But couldn’t turn
Away from black

---

But when I turned
(So unforeseen!),
I saw Him there!
And what a scene!

For things that They
Said "stood in Light"
Were just as they
Now were to sight!

Oh, time and time,
And time again,
My eyes had hid
In darkness’ dim…

I'd felt the Sun
Upon my back,
But now I’m turned
Away from black.

.
I saw an ocean of oceans…
Surrounding the Kings throne –
Like a mote
Of frozen glass

Transparent and crystal –
Shimmering and glimmering –
Like a tranquil,
Sunlit sea

But on the seas horizon
I saw Fire and Blood
Racing toward me,
Like horses prepared for battle

I yelled aloud to the King,
But my words
Were snatched up by the winds
Sweeping along the expanse!

My voice, and my life,
Were lost.

My hope, and my soul,
Were dead.

Suddenly, the King stood up,
And raised His arm –
Commanding the Fire into the sky,
And the Blood into the sea

And I watched the blood
Melt away the frozen glass
Until it was completely gone,
And there was no more sea

And I felt my heart
Burn within me,
As though the Blood had
Melted something in me


.
Part 1: JOY & SORROW

It was around 3am, sometime last week…

When I learned that the
Sweetest Joy
Could, simultaneously, be the
Bitterest Sorrow

As I held my newborn son, Ezra
Close to my chest [Joy]
As he was (inconsolably) screaming his head off
Just below my right ear! [Sorrow]

(…Around 3am, sometime last week…)

But, oh, Ezra himself is a single joy
Who outweighs 10,000 sorrows!

And his parents CANNOT IMAGINE
Life without him

(Though our bodies ache to know, again,
The comforts
And rest
Our past life afforded us)

---

Part 2: THE BABIES ON THE PORCH

We COULD NOT WAIT to introduce Ezra
To everyone (and anyone)!

And the first time we took him outside
Onto the front porch
To meet the neighbors,
The most curious thing happened:

The one-and-a-half year old neighbor girl, Remi –
Short for “Remington” (yes, named after the rifle!) –
Hobbled over with her Daddy,
And pointed to Ezra, and said, “Baby!”

And I smiled
And said
(In the least manly voice I could muster),
“Yeah, he’s a Baby…”

---

Part 3: “BABIES” TO BABIES

Later, I was replaying this interaction
In my head –
Amused by the irony
Of the situation:

That this one-and-a-half year old BABY
Identified a thing
Smaller and younger than HERSELF
As a “Baby!”

And I wondered if she knows that
SHE too is a Baby –

If she ever looks in the mirror,
And points to HERSELF,
And says,
“Baby!”

---

Part 4: BABY GIRLS & BABY DOLLS

And then, I recalled
Having witnessed this ironic phenomenon before…

…As I watched our friend’s little girl, Addy,
Pushing her baby doll in a toy stroller
Around her house
As if it was her Baby

And I thought about how amazing it is
That “pre-programmed” into little girls
Is the nurturing and emotional concern of
A Mother,

And that, it’s not uncommon to find
Baby girls
Pretending to be Mommy’s to their
Baby dolls

---

Part 5: THIS “BABY”

And then, I thought about myself
In relation to my Heavenly Father

Who, in His Infinite Character,
And Bigness,
And Greater-Than-Us-Ness,
Is so unutterably HIGH above (and beyond) me

And a thought popped into my head –
In the form of an absurd question:

“Are we all just ‘playing with dolls’?”

.
Are we all just pushing proverbial ‘strollers' in a cosmic ‘nursery’ we call life and existence?
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