Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2014
What I seek here is as a writer astutely commented “it was the pure breath of God playing on
Human heart strings” where better to start than an instrument that is played in such fashion
Solely by the wind its name is from ****** the Greek god of the wind my changeup calls for the
Wind of the one true God my line in lost friend not a person but a great black oak that grew on
A California ranch for over a hundred years in a storm it was destroyed the lines read this way
Two divergent seeds the ground did divide one of wooden grain the other flesh and blood
Their branches throughout the community do abide as charming as church bells ringing touching all the
Flesh and blood pertains to the ranch family that was so honored by this majestic guest all those years
That’s what I am speaking of bells are associated with the Aeolian harp because their sound is carried on
The wind crisp and clean without contamination this is written that we might prepare ourselves and
Have the pure spirit blow across our souls and from it have a better year ultimately a better life first in
These examples we will move closer to the Aeolian harp you will see this isn’t just living but its
Excelling in the richest spheres our lives can and must strive for this magnificence we are not
Just here just to expend time and enjoy ourselves we are to be in pursuit of a great and eternal
Reward there are many stratus of life others are in earthy terms more advanced that is only on
Social levels in the spirit we truly are equal each according to their gifts will answer on a same
Plane fair and honest judgment so that alone should birth passion in each one I want to be the
Best I can be not to out show another but to present our selves honorably and show we put in
The same effort as others first know all are not chosen to have such dramatic tunes of the harp
To drift across life’s varied landscape ours still will be unique and the highest tunes possible and
Will resound with glory we ourselves to a degree will be pleasantly surprised truly so it will be
Determined on the closeness we have with His Holy spirit when I first heard the harp was in
Hannibal Missouri I was in this rich place of American story telling the boy hood home of
Samuel Clemens better known as Mark Twain I was on the river frontage road the great
Mississippi was to my right but I wasn’t thinking of Tom Sawyer my thoughts weighed heavy on
My mind I was far away up by Chicago at a church where brother and Sister Willis was pastor
Then back in the present here in Hannibal this was their home town a beautiful blonde eight
Year old was their pride and joy life was full she had a older brother who was ten it was a
Musical joyous life and then dark ominous clouds rolled in one so filled with life small and
Gentle it was one of the cruelest and terrifying cancers sorry even her death was terrifying in
The midst of tears and anguish they prompted the Aeolian harp to play they brought her home
To this historical place that became so much more rich and sacred when they lay her in the
Cemetery it came as a rush it over powered my emotions in my mind I saw her waiting for that
Great call the dead in Christ will rise first and meet him in the clouds of glory then those still are
Living will be caught away with him this young heartbroken father and mother with
Out hesitation or actuation by faith and trust they continued and shortly thereafter they started
And completed a larger church the richness of the harp reached across the lost community
Families in peril confused and lost had their ears and hearts opened by the lives of these
Faithful Parents it’s not just about making heaven but look around you at the great and terrible
Day of Judgment the great white throne and He who sets there once the savoir now the judge
Of the world you have others standing there with you as you look at them you can’t help to
Look Beyond His great light and see out in the darkness the deadly silent crying trembling lost
That no one reached or worse they wouldn’t listen the next story of the harp is about Frank
Bartleman the great man God used to bring modern Pentecost to America through the gate of
Azusa St Los Angels he arrived in Los Angeles with his wife and two young daughters December
22 January his oldest daughter three year old Easter was seized with convulsions and passed
Away he echoed the word from Ester little Queen Ester seemed to have been born for a time such
As this Esther 4:14 “Beside that little coffin with heart bleeding I pledged my life anew for God’s
Work In the presence of death how real eternal issues become of all the music LA has produced
None comes close to the sounds made by the Aeolian harp that day all the days since and all
The Souls whose shouts resounded then and now what joy bells are ringing throughout the
Years you read this the harp cuts thorough every excuse every denial we make when His love is
Calling over pastoral fields over head white clouds azure blue sky a single white dove the son of
Man personally calls to you I love you you’re missing so much following the false and deadly
Trends of this world come let me pull you close your land a waste land of just material things in
My presence unquestioned exception hurts carried for years will be healed only as a father can
Do your guilt will be forever cast away moral purity that your soul cries for will be heaped in
Your life no longer dark shadows that haunt but real true life that satisfies to the uttermost it
Will heal bring new understanding addictions are flimsy bindings that hold only because you
Seek all things that are rooted in disfavor my favor knows no bounds and you will be free I will
Breathe my spirit and you will know the Aeolian harp tunes and breathtaking wonder will swirl
Through your mind heart and spirit Heaven will displace the black strangle hold of this world
Centered anew the rays of the cross and my love breaks every yoke true freedom is yours for
time and eternity
Written by
Hal Loyd Denton  Pana Ill
(Pana Ill)   
  7.4k
   victoria, Frisk and Nat Lipstadt
Please log in to view and add comments on poems