You should be frightened when meaning falls off words like clothes off a *******.

I feel like we're all navigating blind. (Saving the World)
I'm thriving on my self-sufficiency. (Still in Love)
Doubt comes to lie at the back of my mind. (Arithmetic)
I've heard rumors of true reality. (Shadowfeet)
I wave my arms ‘round about me and blow. (Faithful)
In the shadows it's easier to stay, (Shadowfeet)
A question like a shame no one will show.   (Hosea’s Wife)
I'll shout and rebuke it, away, away. (Love, Where is your Fire?)
Spoke silence with the seeker next to me.   (Hosea’s Wife)
Temperate, lukewarm will never do. (Love, Where is your Fire?)
[I’m] on a plane across a distant sea. (Albertine)
I'm head over heels over feet for you. (Reverie)
          Watching the water, quietly willing, (Reverie)
          I [will] shout aloud what I [am] feeling. (Flags)

The source of every **** problem the world has ever known.

Fear, you keep coming back
and knocking at my door.
No, I'm overdue
for a breakthrough.

(possibly excluding clinical depression)
I have the cure.
Go.
Go help someone.
Go help someone that has so much less than you.
Do it with a pure heart.
Want nothing in return.
Do this seven times a day,
Do it for seven days.
(Don't cheat!)
Then come back and tell me
you're not depressed,
because you won't be.

Laziness is a disease.
You slip into the breeze
that carries you to where
you did not want to go.
Don't let me stumble
into the mud.
Keep me humble,
wash me with your blood.
Bring me to my knees.
Laziness is a disease.

I beg you to care.
Find the one thing worthy
of all you thought, time, talent.
He is the single source of meaning.
Without him, all is worthless and vanity.
He wants you and you need him, so desperately.
Search your heart and find the truth, the way, and light.
He will and has broken through the darkest of dreaded nights.
Care.

Only Worthy One, you've proven your love’s raw extravagance.
Outrageously scandalous is your story.
Oh Faithful Lover, stay with me, so close.
On these Shadowfeet I do stumble, sometimes even a mouth full of dirt.
On this earth, my toes search their path through the midnight hour.
Only in these times am I refined deep as silver.
Over the waters your spirit does hover.
Oceans may rise, but you will be the Lifeline for these trusting palms once more.
Obstructions you will demolish for the sake of your sheep, your Diella.
Obedient therefore I wish to be, though capable of collision with my heart is this desire.
Obscene to you, is my forgetfulness of what my heart holds dearest.
Oh how grace slips through the fingers when ambition holds dominance.
Oh Faithful One, may my gait sync with your stride.
Oh may my heart be forever intertwined with yours.
One, you and I, let us be. Yes! Yes! Yes!

nah

A jaded history haunts unconsciously.
Fragmented regrets surface to this state of mind,
unhealthily.

But then you overcome me.
you blow my balloon up with relentless joy till it pops
and I can’t even function.

The wetness refuses to halt its rage against my heart’s window.
Though, this is irrelevancy.
My state of faith, so sealed as an envelope.

~

I am so sealed as an envelope.
With the good will in my heart, encompassing,
and the good name on my tongue, spreading
I can do no wrong.

You set the seal there.
You sent it here.
The envelope contains this undeniable love.
But it is not restrained.
No.
It permeates it, through and through
till the oil is spread all about the table,
and drips off the sides, anointing.

The seal sets in the Spirit.
I can do no wrong.
I am not under the law, bound by shackles,
but rather your agape
makes it bubble.

~

The story turns the dial.
The resonance heats the burner.
And your love boils.
The humble ***,
who attempts to brag in her shininess,
is but a homely utensil.

Though ***, need you not be perfect.
There are none now without dents.
They are still usable, still loved.

You see, when the water boils, the metal melts.
In another realm, it is liquid.
Chunks of dirt, bits of dust
swim up to breathe.
And breathe they will,
but it will be their last breath,
at the hand of the sweaty hand,
at the hand of the author.

~

For this story to unfold,
to send the fragments to the ocean floor,
to inflate the balloon,
the ***
acknowledges its dents,
knows the seal is the wormhole to the forge,
submits to the blacksmith, and
doesn't refuse the heat.

And then the *** so pure
becomes one with the oil, seal, and blacksmith.

This morning I woke to find everyone lonesome and left behind.
I looked around; everyone was blue, not knowing what they should do.
In this moment I felt sad, wondering what was so wrong and bad.
They said that things were worse than ever, “Never smile, never-ever.”
They said Happy left them in twenty-ten, “Haven’t seen him since then.”
I thought a moment, then smiled.
 
They asked me how I could smile when current life is so very vile.
I thought to collect my words, and boldly spoke what they had not heard.
“Things aren’t as bad as they look; don’t take my word; look in the book.”
I pointed to the untouched book on the stand, distant, yet at hand.
“How’s that relevant?” they asked, “we’re in the present, it’s in the past.”
Yet a moment more, I smiled.
 
I picked up this book, which was scarcely opened but one day a week.
I flipped through the familiar pages; hadn’t been cracked in ages.
I set it down, wanting not to preach, even having freedom of speech.
“How could I explain all this to them?” I thought; easy this was not.
I looked around, all eyes were on me; I knew then, I could not flee.
I took a breath and smiled.
 
 
I knew they would not listen, if they just saw a stuck-up Christian.
I searched for something which they could relate, then gave it to them straight.
“It’s beyond mere religion; in fact, religion’s just a smidgen.
“A relationship (what a concept!) is what God is looking for.”
I know all you see is preaching but hold these words close: God’s reaching.
Yes, I couldn’t help but smile.
 
“That book on the stand, is meant for much more that showing you you’re ******.
“Yes, this may be true, but there is hope: so much hope, hope through and through.
“It’s a love story;” I said, “God gave life, when mistreated, and bled.
“All of this for the sake of you; he loves you so much; this is true.
“Now all he asks is that you love him back with love that does not lack.”
Ear to ear, I was smiling.
 
As I left my small foolish daze, I looked around; few smiled; most frowned.
“I know all of this may sound cheesy, but the truth isn’t always easy.”
I knew then, this would not touch all, they saw me as naïve and small.
Well, regardless what others may feel, I know God’s love and God’s real.
He is why I can smile when things look grim, yes I smile even then.  
Yes, and this is why I smile.

Feeling,
Deep-set and overpowering.
Emotion,
Enticing and intriguing.
No, I say no in His name.
Because when your presence is high,
I squander and lie.
So come Spirit,
take control once more.
Thank you Spirit,
you're faithful and sure.

Life is not worth living without love.
We squander our lives, yet search for substance belligerently.
The world wallows in indulgence, hunting for some sweet ecstasy.
Desire situated in our hearts for a thing extravagant.
What’s in a name? Not known in full, not yet complete.
Abandoned innocents, love pledged ‘until death do part’ reveals not faithful.

Is there another dirt road? An alleyway? More faithful
than the sun to go west-bound, love?
Does such simplicity exist? Revived, whole, complete?
Cries lift and salt-stained drops fall belligerently.
What is assuredly, magnanimously extravagant?
What is the original ecstasy?

Was it walking in the garden with you, this ecstasy?
With you, who, to me, is perpetually faithful?
Is it from you that that bliss bubbles over, so extravagant?
Of you, is there an undeniable, unfathomable fountain of love?
We bawl out for reply, until the abdomen aches, so belligerently.
Scars mark this world from its pursuit of the complete.

Peering through the mist, our knowledge is six feet underneath complete.
Redemption, we learn by stumbling, is the finest ecstasy.
On our toes, the paroxysm. We press in belligerently.
To raze and desolate, the swing of the wrecking ball is faithful.
But countering this, a sloppy, passionate kiss of love,
grace so abundant, so extravagant.

Trust steady, hope unswerving, love extravagant,
will be my three until the steam is wiped from my lens in the hour of the complete.
Deeply grasp though, the best of these is love,
from which comes all and any ecstasy.
Know that from the ants to the mountains, He is faithful.
So seek and swallow with all your might, desperately, belligerently.

Therefore, “what do I live for?” ask yours belligerently.
Dwell not in leisure and comfort, but in the painfully extravagant.
Zoom out, turn the merry-go-round. You will find him faithful.
Shake your tree of knowledge, an apple might fall, find yourself not complete.
If you speak silence, you will find no utterance of ecstasy.
I call upon the name, let be known this love.

The sweet surrender, the blissful brokenness, the captivating complete.
Find your absolute identity in this encompassing ecstasy.
Know that what has been done for you, is what is indeed, love.

He tore down the wall.
The most beautiful story that encapsulates my new existence.
I do not understand in complete.
Why would he do this for a wretch, blind to her pride?
Why be faithful to your adulterous wife?
More than a true husband, but a savior,
who was the loophole of truth.
He is lacking in not one thing,
not one thing he needs from me.
Here, in lies everything’s greatest mystery.
It is impossible to articulate,
yet here I am attempting.
Love.
What’s in a name?
This one has been trampled over and abused,
but is assuredly the most precious.
The one thing unexplainable.
Sure, we have chemicals in our brains,
but what about the one who has no brain.
Eternally wise, yet not physically existent.
…as of now.
I’ve tried to reason. I’ve tried to know.
I’ve questioned sovereignty.
Am I a speck, and God a Horton?
Is there an ulterior motive?
No, circle the F.
Reason and discernment combine.
Everything cannot be relative.
There has to be one absolute.
One that encapsulates every ****** thing.
Physically, Historically, Emotionally, Psychologically, Scientifically, Philosophically, Eternally, Literarily, Spiritually, Logically, Relationally, Mortally, Politically,
In every blessed realm of existence,
there must be one common absolute.
And guess what?
That Absolute knows me.
He loves me.

Substance over sentiment.
Romantics,
let me **** you dead.

I’m enraptured,
captured,
captivated,
elevated,
enthused,
bemused,
be­seeched,
reached,
rescued.

If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don’t love, I’m nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate.

Leave the romance to the angels,
who look on us in wonder.
But father, I'm an earnest wanna-be,
set my being on fire!