Discarded and forgotten, denied and rejected love was taken and placed on a tree. On a day that was dark and somber when all head turned away a new name was given to love you see. Sent down by his father, to accomplish the father's will. The son of God Yeshua, Jesus died upon that Hill. When all of the blood was shed and his last breath came at that moment love had a new name.

Just beyond the edge of reality there is a mirror of tomorrow. A time line that has changed and where there is no more sorrow. From the growing pains of yesterday, new things emerge, one event moves and changes everything. Through new connections, the old walls are torn down. The children of tomorrow are born and communicate in ways the old ones did not. Barriers fall as the purveyors of distrust are laid to rest. New knowledge solves problems and opens up pathways of enlightenment upon which to walk. The boundaries of want and lack exist no more. The new children have overcome selfishness and greed. There is a will to share on a scale as never before. Understanding is now the first lesson that we teach. In this world that seems an illusion, it is only just over the horizon. As the past becomes history and tomorrow rises, a new equality becomes the reality and we become one people with one voice as we create another world.

When your heart has been shattered and your life is torn apart. when all that you thought you knew is proven wrong. When Love Has abandon you and you are rent into and with tearful eyes ask why, there is a place that you can go. The door is always open and someone will always hear. You do not have to be chosen because God loves us all just the same. Simply give him what is broken and call out to his name. He will take your tattered pieces and bind them each with love. He has a place for those that are broken reserved in his kingdom above.

Divisions are everywhere , society is filled with despair. The liberal liars revel in the chaos. They crave disharmony and lust for power. They despise freedom and embrace tyranny. They want destruction so that they may feed on crumbs of the despair of others. They speak with a silver tongue, deception is worn by them like a shroud. They hide in plain sight among a crowd. Little liars liberals all, sitting around waiting for the fall. So they can pick up the pieces of what is broken and create their utopia. You must simply be compliant and voice no resistance. Just be compliant or they will become insistent. In lock step they come, in unison they March to the same drum. Free will is a danger to their plans. Individual choice cannot be allowed to stand. So they will tell you that you are a nonconformist, they will say that you are not normal like the rest of us. The fact is that there is no compromise there is only one truth. That is what ever they choose.

Giving flowers to a friend for no reason. Encouraging someone who feels they have reached a crossroad. Reminding someone that they are loved. These are simple acts of kindness that are part of giving joy.

Kick the ball, pass the ball, catch the ball, the simplest of definitions. All sports have the basic underpinnings. We watch to be inspired, we watch to be entertained. We get a thrill from the excitement and drama that comes from the team we love winning or losing it all. Until now, there has been sports, but no longer is this the case. The sacred arena has been turned into a political theater littered with nay Sayers and contrived outrage. 24/7 in a news cycle, we succumb to the volatile nature of confrontation. Our national pastime, our favorite hoops shooter or the fastest running back was our escape. Now millionaires not content with fame and large sums of money, must pollute the sports we love with their fake outrage. Sixty minuets in a football game or 3 hours in a baseball arena. One hour on a basketball court or a few periods on center ice. Hundreds of hours pass in a month where a person can make a statement, but when they defile the sports we love, then truly there is no game, just a sad rendition of failed lives that only want attention they feel they cannot get anywhere else.

One nation under God has all but been forgotten, brother hates brother for no reason at all. ****** and destruction reign in our streets, while children cannot read and go hungry. Our leaders rob us blind and promise us things they will never deliver. We hope for better only to get handed worse. One group takes from others to give away crumbs, while yet another hoards up wealth so vast it cannot be imagined. In days where light is fading and darkness is taking hold, There is no love between two strangers. No compassion can be found, nor can human kindness be measured. We all take what we need and leave nothing for another. There is no love only selfishness. The last light of mercy is fading and we are finding ourselves in a cold and meaningless existence because there is no love.

Black, White, Yellow, or Brown the skin color matters not. Red haired, Blonde, or Brown hair one thing does not care. Tall, short, skinny or fat it bears no malice. In life there is no true equality, for we are all human and will always have a bias. Only in death is there equality. Only then are we all the same. Though we might be born to wealth or poverty, all of us die equally. The last act of the play of our life may be dramatic, or it may be peaceful but it is our end just the same. Once we draw our last breath, our part is done in this life. What comes after is open to interpretation, but in this one thing, equality is achieved. We are all mortal and we will all die.

Many teach a path to live and obtain life beyond what we know. Yet there is only one testimony that is of truth. No one else can profess death and life again. To have been killed and three days hence resurrected from the grave. The Christ is sometimes called a myth or a fantasy, but in the hearts of men, the truth is known. Though many may deny it, there is only one way, and that is through Jesus Alone.

Satan has risen or at least that's what she said, as high heels are tossed at my head. A lamp is broken and a vase of shattered, then the curtains are ripped. She screams that I'm the anti-christ and that this is the apocalypse. I have no idea what I've done wrong as I stand there with a befuddled look. She screams how dare you forget that my parents are coming, is that why you forgot to cook? I scratch my head idly as she points her finger to accuse. I would speak to defend myself but then she has a whole rack of shoes. So I wait for the storm to abate, and then I give my phone a quick look. I noticed the calendar date and a message reminder that says I should cook. As she's filling up a bag with some of her shoes and clothes, I Ponder if I should tell her that today is not the date. I then calmly decide that I'll just quietly wait. As she finishes filling her bag, she looks to me as if I should speak. She asked if I have anything to say for myself, I just Shrugged my shoulders as she begins to leave. I know that it may be kind of cruel for me not to say anything. This is not the first time the storm has blown through or she's made this mistake. So I'll just let her go back to her mom and dads and when she finds out that dinner is next week, she'll be feeling really bad. As she slammed the front door shut, I just gleefully smile at what's coming next. In an hour she'll call me begging for forgiveness, and then we'll have fantastic make-up ***.

Is my dress too white, or should I even be wearing white at all? Will the guest approve of me or will they scoff at the way I look. I am not really sure if I should be doing this, is he the right one for me? Can I get him drunk enough that he will be sedate on our wedding night, do I even want to be married at all? If this the future I want for myself, should I be planning to work for my own money? As the music plays, and you head down the aisle, you are thankful that the dress hides your running shoes.

I sit wrapped in an old shawl, I hold my favorite cup tightly as the coffee steams in the cool evening air. I look our over fading green grass and the golden glimmer of the days last light. I rock back and forth in my swing as it creaks with its weathered wood from ages gone by. I see long shadows as a cool breeze flows through my hair, cascading dark strands with streaks of silver gotten from hard won experience and mistakes made. I smile at all of the things I see and feel all of my sorrows slip away, as I watch the last rays of day fall into a cool starry night, I cast off the remains of the day.

There once was a man who was called to war. He had never served in an earthly army. He was a man of a simple trade. Born a carpenter and raised to work with his hands. He stood for a short time to fight for his fellow man. Then one day, the mortal battle was lost. They captured him and nailed him to a cross. On the tree between two criminals he gave up his last courageous breath. He forgave the enemy, even at his death. Then a miraculous thing happened after the lay him in the grave. On the 3rd day he arose from solider to commander our mortal souls to save. He is now crowned the captain of the armies of the heavenly host. He will come again in power and glory filled with the holy ghost. Who is this simple solider you might want ask, why it is Jesus of course, the first and the last.

Oh hey diddly diddly The Merry Song refrains. Echoing through the Tall Oaks where once merry-men did abound. Now Ivy Vines dangle over branches it has creeped up from the ground. Foot paths that were worn in the weathering Heights of Mighty trees have been covered over by Spring foliage and Blossoms that gives sweet perfume or perhaps there is another reason that Footprints can't be seen. Mayhaps a lighter step has come to the wooded Dale that dips quietly Through The Meadows and brakes not a blade of grass. The poor whisper of a phantom the dances in the Morning Mist. A Keen Eye and a sure Arrow quietly abound. Lo there comes yon rich Merchant having bags Laden with gain. The Spoils of his trade, when he already has too much. The twang of a single string like unto a minstrels mandolin, then the sound of coins upon the ground. Away runs the steed of the weathly and tonight the poor will eat. Light afoot comes the archer and her band of merry maidens to sweep away their prize. Then off is a golden haired archer who now bears her father's name. Let it be known to all of Sherwood that Robin hood strikes again.

There was a cuddly bear with golden soft fur. His eyes were black buttons and his nose was round and soft. He was filled with stuffing and didn't have much to say, but I loved him anyway. For years he kept me company, even when I was grown. I placed him in high esteem among the many trophies that I had earned. Despite all of the other awards luster, the bear was the most prized. Then one day something happened to my surprise. A new joy came into my life. A child was born to me from a loving wife. The bear sat quietly on the shelf, as if he were waiting for someone else. Then the day arrived then his new journey began, being held and caressed by two little hands. He had been an odd curiosity sitting on the shelf, until someone climbed high up and took him down. Now he has a new friend with which to spend his days, and though he is a little worn, he still brings joy anyway. From his soft cuddly stuffing to his short golden fur, he is the object of affection once again. The stuff of a child's imagination, a true and loyal friend. So I watch my old bear lying down quietly at nap time, the way he did with me once upon a time.

In several pieces there was a broken doll. Once filled with beauty, she now lay shattered. Longing to be whole again, she wept as she lay still. Dust covered her pieces and placed her into forgetfulness. Then one day a man found her and gently picked up the pieces. With the care of a master craftsman he mended each part. When the last piece was set in place, he picked up his brush and returned her beauty. Then what was broken was made whole and put back to be admired and glisten in the sunlight for all to see.

There was a frog who was slimy and green. He sat on a dead log and loved to sing. Then one day a stork came by and the frog became very quiet. Hoping the stork would soon go away, the stork looked at the log and said I am not interested in you today. Though he couldn't see the frog, he waded around then in glee the frog made a sound. The stork scooped him up and left well fed. In the storks belly the frog said, I thought you weren't interested in me. The stork said oh I didn't see you I was talking to the log.

I ate an Apple one day and was going to throw the core away. Then I saw it contained three seeds. I took the seeds out and dug a small hole in the dark earth. I then placed the seeds in and went on my way. On my many travels I never looked back nor did I consider what I had done. Then many years on I came around the same way again. There on the side of a path, reaching high into the sky. There stood a great tree, covered in golden fruit. I looked as people were pulling the Apples off of the heavy laden limbs. I asked a woman with a basket how she liked the fruit. She said that it was wonderful, that it gave abundance every year. She said that with the Apples she made pies and sold them far and near. I saw a young child eating on a piece of fruit, I asked him how he was and he said he was good. He said the Apples were delicious and that he hadn't eaten all day. I spoke to many others then I went on my way. As I walked down the path, I looked now and again to the side, I saw smaller Apple trees sprouting out of the dark earth. I them smiled at the seed I had planted and wondered what they tree was worth. Then a voice spoke to me and said what you thought was a foolish thing, planting three seeds in the ground I have turned into a blessing. That woman sells her wares and can afford to pay her bills, little children come by and their bellies are filled. People rejoice at the miracle of hope where there was none. See how great a thing has come of what to you seemed like a silly thing you had done.

I heard something knocking then creaking and rocking. It would come all hours of the night. I went back to sleep but then it would come again. I knew that something wasn't right. For days this went on and it began to creep me out. I looked high and low but found nothing in my house. Perhaps the house is haunted, but I built it brand new. I looked for an answer but could not find a clue. Then one night about the witching hour of 12, I was getting some milk and then some cookies down off of a shelf. Then there was that noise again, the knocking then the creaking and the rocking. I listened intently and it was coming from outside. I put on my slippers and grabbed a large flash light. As I opened the back door and walked quietly down my back stairs, I shined the light left and right but saw nothing there. As I got closer to my fence that bordered the neighbors yard, I heard the knocking, then the creaking and the rocking coming from next door. As I stepped up to the fence and looked over the top, I saw the most awful sight, it nearly made my heart stop. Right next door in an old wooden swing, were my two elderly neighbors not wearing a thing. I cringed in fear and ran quickly back inside. I washed my face in the sink and violently rubbed my eyes. Sometimes I have found out it is best you see, if you don't know what the noise is and just let things be.

There was a raggedy man who wore tattered clothes. He walked down the main street and could wiggle his nose. He did simple magic tricks, the children he did amuse, but he was at his best, when he tapped danced and sang the blues. No one knows where he came from, no one can really say. He simply showed up and began to entertain passers by one day. He never asked for any money, no he would not take a dime. He just smiled and enjoyed the laughter of the people he entertained as they walked by. For years I watched him perform and then one day he was gone. No one knows where he went, but we all missed dancing and his songs and even the odd magic trick, that would sometimes go a little wrong. So where go in your travels, if you happen to pass by a dancing blues singing raggedy man, please tell him I said hi.

The seams of society became frayed and undone. The people were confused and filled with inpatients. No one knows where the thread first came unraveled, but when the smoke cleared the face of the world had changes. Power was ripped from the hands of those who held it and overnight new leaders were born. Ideas that had been suppressed now came to the surface, along with earth shaking new ways of doing things. It all came crashing down as the old ways were wiped away and a new path to tomorrow was found.

The sea roared and the fog rolled in. The wind blew and the night closed in. Ships were lost and their captains could not see, but they found hope in a single light. A candle placed on top of a table in a tower on the shore. The simple light shined for miles through the dark and the storm. It let those who were lost see to find their way. Now go and be that light, each and every day.

There was a skinny girl who didn't eat too much. She was never satisfied with how she looked. Despite being really thin, she tried to be skinnier,eating only what she needed to stay alive. She got to a point where she was as thin as a nail, but still she wasn't satisfied. Then one day she went to her mirror to see what she looked like. When she tried to look at herself, she found that she was finally so thin, that she could only see herself if she turned sideways.

On a barren hill, lay shattered pieces of wood. They were weather worn and aged. In the broken boards I found three nails, they were rusted and stained . I picked up the boards and I felt such pain, I dropped them in shock and fear. Then I touched one nail and I felt such grief that I wept as I fell to my knees. With a broken heart I lay in the dirt wondering why this had to be. What horrible thing could have happened here and why did it bother me? Then a peace came over me and I looked at the things before me, I picked up the wood and nails and turned around to see a man behind me, he was dressed in common clothes all white and clean. He took boards and nails from me and said I have been looking for these, thank you for finding them for me. In stunned silence with an empty heart I felt all of my fear and pain wash away. I asked him what he wanted with two boards and three nails, he said just wait and you will see. He push them back together and as if they had never been torn apart, I saw they formed a cross and at that moment I knew what the nails were for and let God come into my heart.

I feel sick then I feel well. I am cold then I am hot. It is not an infection, I am not sure what I have got. I think perhaps that I get it when you enter the room. My pulse quickens and I feel light headed. Am I having a heart attack, I cannot be sure. I know when you speak my name that I want to fall to the floor. Love seems to be something that has taken hold of me. How can one emotion have so many different symptoms, can anyone please explain it to me.

Stranded in a barren desert, I wandered across the burning sand. I was lost and in desperation when I came upon a man. I asked if he could help me, he said no but I will show you where to go. He pointed towards the setting sun, so I tiredly walked on. After much labor, I began to lose my mind. I saw what I wasn't sure sitting what seemed miles away. I then stumbled into the massive object, with the fading light of day. I stepped back several paces to see what this thing was. It had the face of a man and body of a lion and looked so regal, that I stood in awe. Then I saw something move, it was part of the giants paw. I fell to the sand in fear, think I was done. Then I heard a voice say welcome to my home. Startled I stood up and the massive being said what do you think. It rose up on all four paws and gave it's head a shake. I replied that I am not sure, what am I supposed to think. I am very thirsty I said, can I have something to drink. As if by magic, a lovely maiden appeared. She brought me water and a cold beer then quickly disappeared. I gulped down the water and delightfully savored the beer. I smiled at the giant beast and wished him good cheer. I then went black and some hours later, I found myself inside a pyramid. In a magnificent room, covered in marble and gold. I woke up and tried to stand only to find I was naked and cold. I wrapped a sheet around myself and I am happy to report, that I wasn't in ancient Egypt but had found Luxor's casino and resort. I put on a hotel robe and called some one the phone. It was long until a nice you man came up with my laundered clothes. I ask him with a puzzled look, what had happened to me. He answered with a great big smile and a great amount of glee. He said that our staff found you out back of the resort. You were lying on the ground between our icons feet. A waitress said you had ordered a few drinks then passed right on out. I asked about the giant statue and why it talked to me. The young man we get that a lot when our visitors have had too much to drink. So I lie here pondering a hanger over and massive bar bill I think, as I try to solve the riddle of the Luxor Sphinx.

Standing on the sideboards of a corral, looking down at death. Two thousand pounds of fury sits just six feet away. With what some call nerves of steel and others call insanity, a cowboy straddles a bull that they say can't be broken. Earning a name like Loco Rios or the Widow Maker, the bull snorts as the cowboy tightens up the leather strap into his glove. Taking a second look at the man holding the gate, the hand is lifted and the dust begins to fly. All of his senses ask why the hell he is here, while his heart races and his sense of adventure, says that his body is just along for the ride.

A sapling reaches for the sun, it's leaves stretch out to draw in the light. It grows up inch by inch, pushing up and putting down roots. As it expands and grows, the rings that it creates capture a little bit of time with each passing year. A record hidden from the naked eye is captured in the heart of the tree. It is said that nature doesn't remember, but that is not true. The records of what has happened and who we are surrounds all, we just do not want to take time to see what the rings have remembered.

To write the words that you feel can be difficult. To open up and let your inner self see the light of day can be treacherous. There are many who may not see as you see and may not understand what you want to say, but to keep silent is not as nearly as bad as letting your voice be heard. While many think of what they want to say, when you pen your words, you speak from your heart and soul to many others. While self expression is a risk, it is a risk worth taking if you have the courage.

A trickle of water falls off a mountain peak. Down between the clefts of the weather worn stones. Running steadily down into the earth. Winding through well worn passages. Flowing into larger cracks, joining with other water flows from high above on a frozen mountain peak. From a slow drip to a silver stream it moves forward. Down and out into fresh water springs that fill creeks and streams. Then into a river deep wide and clear. Onward the water flows, sometimes deep and slow, other times fast and shallow. Ever flowing the river goes, bringing life as it goes. A place where memories are created and lives are changed. Moving across the land into the sea until water is drawn up by the sun to fill the clouds, ascending to the mountain heights to fall as snow and rain beginning the journey over again.

Slowly drifting down on deep still water, I hear a Loon call. I look towards a bank where Spanish Moss hangs from a tree and I see turtles laying in the sun. In front of me an Otter races through the water chasing a school of fish, as a Crane wades among the Cat Tails along the river marsh. Frogs croak in the shadows as they hide on Lilly Pads. Ducks splash in a creek feeding into the rivers deep cold waters. With no motors or electrical means of motion, I take in the beauty of the river, with just a simple paddle and the respect for the life that can be seen on a quiet journey down the river.

There is a place where all sorrow goes. Where the tears of the despondent eventually flow. A river devoid of a single living thing. The river of tears that is cried each and every day. There is no joy in these waters, only salty remembrance. Things of loss and utter sadness can be found there. So if you ever immerse yourself in the waters that flow with each persons misery, just remember that you will not feel rejuvenated when you come out, but perhaps you will leave some of your sorrow behind, and the river of tears will take it far from you as it flows away with the tears you have cried.

There are many pursuits that you can choose to engage in. Some are selfish, while others are selfless. Still others are neither for good or ill, they are just a way to earn a wage. In the grand scheme of living, the span of human existence is but a blip on the scales of time. Beyond the mortal trail we walk, is the eternity. Many question how to come to this place. Some believe that self sacrifice can gain one entry. Others seek to understand the philosophy of life beyond a mortal plain. Still others simply live a day to day existence, while doing simple acts of kindness in order to assure a better place beyond this world. Which ever path one chooses, the truth still exist that all will perish. Beyond that we must make our own choices and hope we have picked the right road to eternity.

One day I saw a rock that did not fit anywhere. I picked up the rock and carried it with me everywhere. Many people laughed at me, but I really didn't care. I just held on to the rock, no matter what others said. Then one day a great rain came and many people had no place to stand. I simply stood up on the rock and watched the water pass me by. I will stand upon the rock that is Jesus, even when I die.

Oh mountain that I cling to, sacred rock of ages. Rock of the foundation of all things, that is higher than I. Let thy name be exalted and given adoration, for thou oh rock are higher than I.

Circular white stones specifically placed to accentuate the lay out of the land. A masonry separating the patch of earth from the outside world. Delicate roses planted in a specific place. Dark earth exposed to the sun mixed with the right compost. The dank smell that permeates the air. Beautiful blossoms of all colors that glisten with dew in the morning sun. I place I like to sit and think while enjoying the fragrances that blend with the smell of earth. Flowers of elegance, that give me such joy in my rose garden.

Born into reality and not prosperity, I grappled with the circumstances that surrounded me. Disadvantage was my native tongue and necessity was my teacher in the school of hard nocks. I earned my diploma at a young age and became street wise. Survival was the only way of life I knew, until I was older and had earned many battle scars. Now I am not sure if I am better or worse for what I had to go through. I only know that I wasn't born with a silver spoon and the only way that I will ever grab a brass ring is to likely steal one.

The road is dark and the morning air is cold. I look up and see the dim street lights. I pedal faster in hopes of warming up. I wonder why I ever agreed to this, then I hear a dog barking off to the side. I slam my brakes on and nearly fly forward over the handlebars. Papers shift in my bag as I tried to regain my balance. I squint my eyes and see a porch light on oh, I know that's my first stop. I go forward slowly and grab the paper and hurled it toward the steps. Move on to the next and then the next no longer feeling in the cold. Before I know it the sun has broken The horizon and the first day of my route is done. Looking back, I now have fond memories of how hard it was but I wouldn't change a thing.

Oh wild vine that blossoms with fragrant buds into colored splendor on the end of my front porch. I watch you season after season as you creep up the trellis little by little as you seek to climb to the sun. Each year you rise and I grow older as I see your beauty come and fade. How I wish I could capture your beauty and hold it still in time, so that neither you nor I would ever age, but be held fresh in our state of beauty and bliss so that time could not take away beauty or fragrant life from either of us.

Rich spice embodiment of fullness and flavor of enhancement. Giver of knowledge revered aged teacher. Both give flavor to life. Both can turn the ordinary into the extraordinary. One brings out the fullness of food, the other brings out the best in their student. The revered word carries a dual meaning, but both are intertwined. To know both is to know a unique experience. To become both is to become enriched while enriching others. A person can be as the spice, seeing the potential in another then adding a little something extra to help that person achieve and become better. This makes the individual both the spice and a teacher, thus a Sage.

On barren place where nothing seem to grow, are collected the tears of sorrow, all of the weeping for loss and grief are collected here. As far as the eye can see, there is nothingness, no life not a single tree. As if some curse were spoken over this place, a place where no life can be. If not for the land that bears our sorrow, the earth would wither and die. So let your tear flow for what ever grief you may hold, for they will be caught by the salted ground.

On balance the scales have been tilted. Truth has given way to spin doctrine. Equality is not what it should be and the lady has lost her blindfold. The court of man has failed as it has forsaken divine guidance. Now the bribe has blinded justice in a different way. The unfair balances tilt in the favor of the powerful and the well to do. Poverty which was once a problem is now a curse. In hallowed halls that once gave a voice to the oppressed, now the kings ply their trade as politicians speak with silver words. Justice is worth the price you can pay for it and the unwashed masses are left to fight over crumbs in hope of finding some favor and redress.

A straw man hanging on a stick, blowing ragged in the wind. A straw hat and torn jeans with a shirt full of dried grass. A smile painted on your face with buttons for eyes, not much to look at it would seem. You sit idly and watch the corn grow, hopefully scaring away a few old crows. As much as many might scorn you, you are good at one thing. When I want to talk you always listen and never ever complain. So I think of you often as the winter comes and you hang around in the cold and the snow. When I feel really lonely and need someone to listen, I know just where to go.

I was looking through old things one day, when I found a faded envelope. I was plain and non-descript. I looked at the address and it just said to a friend, so I opened it to see what it said. While the envelope was worn and faded, the letter was crisp and new. The paper was colored gold and it had a royal emblem on the page. The words of the letter were beautifully written in the most unusual hue, the ink was the color of Scarlet. It said dear friend, I am glad you have found this note. I was wondering when you would open it, I have been waiting for so long. I want to tell you how glad I am you are reading it now. I know that you have been lost, but I want you to know that you are now found. All of your confusion will be forgotten and all of the answers you seek will become clear. All you have to do is ask and I will draw near. I was stunned by what I read and I began to shed a tear, then I read the final line and my heart broke apart. It said just know that I died for you and I loved you from the start. Your friend Jesus. I knew then that I was not alone and that I would never be the same. The day I read the letter written in Scarlet blood, that was shed by the king of kings.

His hands were rugged and pierced on a tree. His feet were worn and nailed that he should bleed. He walked in worn out sandals and slept on the ground. His head was cut with a thorny crown. He wept tears as blood that the cup should pass, but it was not the fathers will. He was faithful until the end. Even death could not hold the one who would not bend. He bares the scars of his sacrifice for all of creation to see. Christ our lord wears them proudly to show that he died for you and me.

Exterior wounds heal and leave behind their mark. You can often have them fixed, but not what is on a persons heart. Wounds that are emotional, do take time to heal, but the scars that are left behind, will never disappear. When a dream of true love is shattered, because that person doesn't love you. When a child is lost to a parent, this is a grievous wound. When you offer up everything just to have your life torn apart. These wounds cut deeply into a persons heart. So though some may wear a battle scar with dignity and pride. The scars that we have inside of us are the ones that can make us cry. These are the hardest ones to deal with, the scars you cannot see.

Blossoms release perfume into the air and the rain leaves the trees with the scent of spring. The wet earth is dank and feels cool between your toes. The water sitting idle in the tall grasses of a slow flowing stream fills the air with the smell of the old and new as things decompose and grow. The senses are delighted and challenged by diversions of all things being new, then with the change of seasons the world changes again. With each experience there are new things to be enjoyed. The scent of the world and things that are alive and changing, even when we do not realize it is happening around us.

A whip tore open his flesh. The most precious blood was spilled. Leather bound with bits of metal or glass. A torment for the wicked punished an innocent soul. It was part of an agony that few could ever know. Into the passion he went unto the last, bearing a world of sin. He entered into a divine ecstasy as he was crucified. The torn flesh, the crown of thorns, the sorrow filled his eyes. A brutal death that brought forth an abundance of life, each stripe to his soul is how we are healed. The scourge was more than a cruelty, it was to be a necessity. Only by this torment could he fulfill his destiny, by doing what no one could or ever will, by his suffering, he completed the fathers will.

I bear my claws and tear into my lovers back. I writhe beneath the warm body that is entwined with mine. I wrestle with the forces of the flesh and cut into the flesh. I tear deeply listening to the satisfaction my lover gains, knowing that I am in both pleasure and pain. I hold fast as I reach passions height, I descend to the depths of wicked delight. My breast heave as I pull my lover tight. I want to be filled with all my might. I dig my claws in one last time. Like a feline on a scratching post, I sharpen my claws for one wild time.

Working with my hands I peel away the layers of grit and dirt. I pull out the parts that are worn and pitted. I pull away the age and polish the pieces until they begin to shine. I see what was and what can be, looking past the outer wear and decay. When other see a simple lump, I see the true beauty that lies within. The piece speaks to me and whispers what it wants to become. So with fingers of determined labor and an insight that few are willing to discipline themselves to obtain, I work tirelessly to produce the masterpiece. Whether it is an engine or a block of stone, the sculpture and the piece are always joined in a spiritual way as the hands do not create the thing, they simply tear away the unwanted piece to reveals what has always been there.