The Poet says, “weeping,
may tarry for the night,
but joy comes with the morning.”

I look and see, their weeping.
Listening, I hear their cries.
I offer them hope after their storm,

It is not for nought, this weeping.
And though it tarries beyond this night,
eternal joy comes with the mourning.

This man he is writing, writing in the sand
But the what and the why, I cannot understand
They condemn me and he bends down in the dirt,
Does he even care that I'm going to be hurt?
"Let he who is without sin, cast the first stone"
I look around and not one rock has been thrown
Once more he gets down and starts to write
I can't explain it, but somehow I feel like I'll be alright
One by one they start to leave, their stones left untouched
Stopped by a man whose only response was writing in the dust.
The elders leave first, and slowly, each go home
Until it is He and I standing there all alone.
What could he write that caused them to leave?
Here was a story none could explain and few could believe
He rose, turned to me, and said:
"Where are they who would have you dead?"
"They are left. They are no longer here"
The wind came and whatever he wrote had disappeared
"They do not condemn you. Neither, my child, do I.
Go now and sin no more in the grace of the Most High"
This man has given me a new life, a second chance
The man who looks at me with such a loving glance
I know not what he wrote or why he even cared
But from a stranger's kindness, my life was spared
So here I stand this day, this very moment
To witness to the power of atonement
So let me live as his word commands
And pay the price that true love demands
The wisdom of a stranger's writings in the sand

I am Israel

I am he who wrestles; (Selah)
With sin
And lust;
With pain
And pleasures;
With hatred
And joy;
With solitude
And Chaos;
With father
And mother;
With man
And God.
Selah

“And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God,”—

—But who is to say that is so?
Because all of these things strike with a heavy blow.
And this “good” is sometimes painful at best,
Cutting away at these things in my chest.
And the truth is my “good” only benefits me.
It keeps me comfortable, that much is plain to see.
God asks if he could remove the darkness from my heart
But my heart, only knowing darkness,  it cries out not to part.
So, I must soon decide
Whether to flee or to abide.
I hear the sound drum
I think, am I to become—

—“to those who are the called according to His purpose.”

Fast headlong I now fell ,
a hole in dark night sky ,
through diverse strange devotion ,
left alone , outside of Time .
☆
Stranded , unveiled and motionless ,
a searing red blinding light ,
rendered my chest torn apart ,
by a figure in black , out of
sight .
☆
Though feeling no base
emotion ,
there was a demon of fear ,
so prayed I sought my deliverance ,
from this being of anguish and tears .
☆
Was I summoned to awaken ?
have access to this work ,
through darkest night to ride ,
this chariot of thunder and verse .
☆
But something stood behind this
temple of judgement and pain .
The Sun , the Moon and a field of wheat ,
marked where that hidden door lay .
☆
Symbols rose up from the sea ,
a vision of numbers and sound .
World shifted from black , red to white ,
overwhelmed as the first scroll unbound .

The Bible says not to judge anyone, but does that apply to yourself?
The Bible says to love thy neighbor, but am I my own neighbor if I live alone?
The Bible Says to forgive others, but is their a limit I need to reach?
The Bible Says to love thy enemies, but what if I am the enemy to myself?
The Bible says not to lay with a man, but am I even a man?
The Bible says to not ******, but would I still go to hell if I was the victim?

On the church steps sits a boy in a skirt and a button up shirt
A book lies on the skirt of the boy in a skirt and a button up shirt
"Why are you not inside?" I ask the boy in a skirt and a button up shirt
"They kicked me out" Replies the boy in a skirt and a button up shirt

The church has "All are welcome" on its doors, refuses the boy in a skirt and a button up shirt
"What's your name?" I ask the boy in a skirt and a button up shirt
Nothing is said by the boy in a skirt and a button up shirt
I adjust my skirt and button up my shirt, as a girl in pants and a blouse welcomes me, the boy in a skirt and a button up shirt

The scent of sin
Is ripe in man,
Yet the vision isn’t there.
The scent of sin
Rains burning sand
Yet the sinner fails to care.
The scent of sin
Consumes the land
For at nothing does it halt.
The scent of sin
Is spread by hand
For they build top pillars of salt.

-Eat of the Fat.
But for why?
-Because you have to feed.
Drink of the sweet.
-But for why?
Cause your gluttony is greed.
-Save a portion.
But for why?
-Because your fruitlessness is nigh.
-So save a portion.
But it’s mine.
-Then all of them will die.