A voice that whispers to me
Tells me to push on and on, trusting even while she's gone
The voice has carried me easily over seas and travesties of greater turmoil
And as waters boil, waiting and watched, I am unscathed and joyful in the voice
It whispers like vespers on a breeze that frees my sometimes troubled mind
When memories and longings fade in like a tremulously beautiful din
Creating harmonies and dissonances that dance out of time
Out of time . . .
Timing, oh timing
How did you get away from me?
"It's okay," that voice whispers, knowing the events that lead to today
The sacrifice is sweeter and refinement's meaning deeper
When there is loss . . .
Loss . . .
To lose it all to gain it all within a fall before the fall
When greens fade and life's cycle trades for an escapade of reds and yellows
Color me rainbow, don't stop at yellow
Don't stop
Oh please, don't stop
So many more colors to discover, beyond clover greens and a prismatic sheen
That blended ecstatic its chromatic gleam
The voice was always pleased, yet it demanded we cross seas
Create distance, honoring all that was given to He
All that we give . . .
Give . . .
The voice brings peace, while insisting I not stop
"She has stopped," I plead, yet I know she still reads
Still seeks, which speaks in unison with that voice
To remember . . .
I set out to give it all, whether or not I stand or fall
I know she feels, I feel she is not fickle in her words or her decisions
Her actions not derision, nor her writings works of fiction
Where does this confounded belief and confidence come from?!?!
The voice that whispers reminds me that it led me here for a purpose
Like porpoises and endorphins, endolphins that swim through me
Invigorating and serene as I redefine this shape of a man
A man . . .
I attempt to be a good one, of sorts
And the voice never retorts at my efforts
He loves when I try
He loves when I fall
He loves when I fly
And through it all
When I succeed and give Him the glory
We shine together
Oh, how we shine together
So, dear reader
Here I am at peace
That voice the deepest part of me
The heart of me, the art in me
He is my reason - in every season
High or low, I always know He speaks to me in voices that whisper
I listen
And I act
I progress
And as I take these steps, certain memories linger with longing
He opens every door, and I want more - I will not settle for a life mundane
Nor will I give up on those that I love
For green reminds me
As He reminds me
To find that best version of myself.

In a tundra, whited and smitten with cold
My fires unfold
I am not daunted by dismissals nor iced distraction
I never needed the attraction, I simply chose to slide the slalom
And the Lord has shown me the path I must now take
While not forsaking when I've been forsook.

Funny, I still feel something missing, a piece I lost along the way
But there is nothing more to say...nobody is really listening anyway.

I thought there was a better way, one that reconciled instead of frayed
I thought I was played...but my music has changed and it still holds sway.

No more.

I am outside my shell, outside my country, my mind continues to grind
And a plan to leave a lasting impact, its span greater than my meager lifetime
Oh, the salty brine that taunts and teases
The dire diseases that plague our pure waters
We have the cure, an end, and a beginning...
Someone just needs to write the story.
Others will pick up the pen when I fall.
I am not needed at all.
I am just a catalyst.
A vision.
A mirage in a desert that is waiting for the deluge.
Soon...
Soon.

I am in moments
A mind that is fleeting
Freeing itself from forever being
Trapped in the one-sided and unrequited
No soul can harbor such pain and remain sane
No ships can anchor in such a cantankerous storm
Her form malevolent yet brilliant
Sending waves that pave the way for another crash
Another unfulfilled dream that teams with turning from one mind to another
Always changing like the tide that hides beneath froth and brine
I ask for a sign, oh Lord, a sign.

I pray for dawn
For a light to come on that casts a vast reflection denying circumspection
Bringing clarity to her shifting waters...when the dawn comes
That those fearsome waves would calm and save me from drowning
A coast cleared of chaos...a safe harbor, where love can thrive
To survive the long night.

The Spirit of God hovered over the deep
And in seeped His love and light; courage for the momentous fight ahead
Where worlds would collide and divide, leaving their mark on each other
Unforgettable moments that draw these worlds back to one another like gravity
And so...the gravity of this storm weighs in, and we are rocked to and fro, again
We cast our eyes out upon open waters to find the Son of the Father walking
Fearless
He is the calm
He is in the storm
He has the eyes of the storm, able to break all derision and indecision
Begging us to "trust in one day...one day at a time"
Showing us to give grace covered in the light of His holy face
A smile that beckons us to be His and belong to each other
To serve and love one another despite the storms
When times defy the norm and cause us to doubt
His mighty voice shouts above the wind
"Do not rescind, do not doubt, weather it out, and be blessed!"

I am in moments
Unable to see anything but the calamity of unfulfilled words
The storm is a fickle thing that comes and goes again and again
I venture forth with my heart and find her wounding hard and sharp
Her winds and torrents unpredictable
The undine whispers to me that I am not a true man
That I cling to my rigging and allow my emotions to claim me
But Christ's voice retains me...and I know I can step onto the waters
And her storm won't harm me; she can even find a calm
A place where she and I exist in peace sharing the reefs
Sharing the sea, two worlds colliding freely
Where my winds caress the surface of her waters
And the Lord sleeps in my boat
I can see His face beneath her surface
And the sun on the horizon shines
Reminding me of the brilliance that takes place when these two worlds meet.

It is worth weathering my doubts...it is worth weathering her storms.

In the beginning, God created the Heavens and the Earth...
Before the beginning, God knew exactly what was going to happen.
He knew our imperfections, our faults and flaws, but He did not pause
He did not doubt to create, to inundate the world with water and life
Knowing who would walk and who would merely talk
God has proven Himself a taker of calculated risk
Free will
The blood that had to be spilled to create The Way
And who was to say whether or not we would find faith in our day?
Life could have taken so many different turns, and I could burn in a different way...
The Lord walked the land, trusting in man, eleven to be specific
Prolific in His ways, loving us, even if we were a Judas
That twelfth soul who sold his own and should have known
The Messiah among us was willing to wash our feet...
How perfect and complete is God's knowledge of time.
Every choice in every life a line upon His canvas
And He intervenes with colors pristine bringing depth and purpose
Layers and contours that collide in a chromatic blend
That sends the eye across this scape, draped with Divine deliberation
Every drop of paint placed with precision and pieced like a puzzle with Providence
Divine Providence
Then...He stood back, the foundations laid
And by themselves our colors spread across His canvas
Our own will the invisible brushes
Swishing along in hushes as time progressed
And at times, our Master Painter would intervene with those colors pristine
Our lives would change or be challenged
And at our darkest moment, in the middle of the canvas
With colors turning black and turning back with wickedness and death
In one breath, He cast from His brush the most brilliant red ever to be bled...
Right in the middle of our midst, and our reality did twist
Death to life, grays to glowing greens, black to vibrant blues
A kaleidoscope of hues that bridged one half of this frame to the next
This oil never dries and it always covers
Even the meanderings of star-crossed lovers can't compare to His grace
His romantic piece, this portrait of His people - saved and lost
The cost of this work is immeasurable...
It has always caught my eye and spun me on my head,
And I will not understand it until I am fully dead
But for now, I'm merely dying in my meager attempts at scrying
Dying to know the why's and how's and when's
And until then, I'm humbled to be an ever changing line on His canvas
A piece planned before the paint was poured or the canvas nailed to its board frame
A canvas stretched in creation, perfect in His elation on how to fill it
What a glorious plan He has for man
I cannot wait to see it fully...
I know I will be overwhelmed.

Under his satirical ceiling we sat
Simply to chat about this and that

But the mood grew somber and sullen
Discussing great men who had fallen
And for a few moments neither of us spoke…

I stared up and away
I could think of nothing to say
And then it struck me like Newton’s apple
Fallen from a tree in Eden

“Mike…” I ventured
“Why couldn’t their fingertips touch?”

He raised his head as though weighted with lead
And for the longest time, a hiatus in rhyme
His gaze pierced that dual portrait…

I have seen many men weep
A wonder that washes over me in both cold and warm tides
But Michelangelo’s tears could not be defined
Pouring forth from a vessel of shattered pride
I watched him uncomfortably
Upset at my question’s transgression…I looked up once more

Unlike before, I saw it, hidden in the space
The looks on faces, chastened, I saw it:

They were not nearly touching
Not almost, not even close, nowhere near
And it was suddenly clear, it could not hide
The divide!
Oh, the divide!
The distance so dramatic, so drastic

His intention was not dimension, but the action itself!
A reaching breaching that vast space
The answer in Adam’s careless face, in Newton’s open hand
A lump forming on the back of his head and mind

I looked back to Mike, ready to weep with him
But composure gained, eyes strained, he answered
with a smile
“I hate painting on damp plaster.”
“Oh,” I replied, catching my breadth.