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The beauty of His handiwork drives us miles in the thousands, pursuing awe in the mastered mystery of creation.

We are wonder full at the appearance of mountainous clouds, thick forests and their streams, serene lakes, seas, their neath and the landscaped violence of waterfalls.

Even at the worthy tranquil beauty of mornings microscopic droplets called dew.

Such a creative Heart present and Earthly plain to see of which even the mouths of babes cry praise.

Yet from the day of the open womb atrophy is arm strong, ministering twenty-four hour receipts.
Perplexing why many seek not beyond it?

The first Romans spoke of this mystery and at the eleventh hour the wisdom of learned Hebrews faithfully exposited;

"to diligently seek the Wonderul is to find Him, rewarded with the masterpiece Himself"


© Qwey.ku 2023
Strong’s Definitions
נָשָׂא nâsâʼ, naw-saw'; or נָסָה nâçâh; a primitive root; to lift, in a great variety of applications, literal and figurative, absolute and relative
I still pine
       for what I’ve lost
               the promise and
                               fulfillment.

I still search my memory
                for hidden fragments
                                 of that treasure.

     Time has covered
                some of them in
                            shadows of nostalgia.

     But the flaming pain
                        still brightly burns and
                                      tears will not extinguish it.
                        ljm
Sometimes I feel like a broken record.  Healing much too slowly.
'Practice makes perfect' is a Damoclesian carrot fastened with erudite string.


Its bite mentally drops.


Practice is the whetstone of preparation.

&

Perfecting, the work of The Spirit.



© Qwey.ku 2023
2 Samuel 22:33 / Galatians 3:3 / Ephesians 4:13
The Lord Holy Spirit is a refiner honing the beauty of His Word seeded in us, unsheathing the sword of truth.
you don't exist when
my eyes are open
you don't exist when
my blood's not poisoned
when my soul's at peace
when my gut is full
and when I'm in company

So you exist most of the time
dear muse
How to become a poet:
Let someone rip your soul apart.
And in the need of mending ,
You will replace it with words.
I’m sick of all these love songs
Written about another
Sonnets and odysseys
Desperate for a Lover

I want to enjoy the silence
Nihility subdue
Equally alone
As I am with you

I try to reflect Compassion
A metric of good health
Psuedo-neo Truism
Learn to “Love Thy Self”
I heard the dawn whisper

"Hope is on the horizon"

Just as her Sun rose
clothed in copper orange
eclipsing the shimmer
of earths waters
with soul piercing rays

Illuminating the day forwards
like flames winged with healing
engulfing paths with the brightness
found in the joy of wisdom

Imparting strength
in the sure vision
of understanding...

Hope IS on the horizon

                    © Qwey.ku
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