Sitting on my thrown... A thrown of highly stacked orange chairs, all lined up in rows...

I looked down over the world, I was higher then even the tallest of my youth.  I was no show

Simply claiming my kingdom of independence.  Sitting up and watching like a lioness in demand

In demand of discernment and wisdom, for she can't afford failing... Visitors came unplanned

Tense...unprepared for this surprise attack, my heart leaped, shock forced my body to jump down...

Down to a lower level where I rightfully belonged... The third chain of a story broke promise, the ending of one of my neck's crowns

I ran, my feet punching the ground, not noticing the trail of scatter beads that followed my every foot step...

Too tiny for anyone to notice...black..and blue.. rolling away to hide.. not knowing these people's love had no depth

The jewel of the story flying away into a corner of a memory filled hall... the chandeliers crystal whispers were heard

Ignoring the callings of my fake name... I ran into the heart of the church... rows of pews starred at me... I didn't speak a word

More beads scattered behind me, as my emotions and feelings scattered along with them.

The silence never felt so dead as I ran towards the back, my soul singing a surrendering hymn.

The two left over neck crowns mourned for their lost friend, as I mourned over the lack of knowledge of the future

  Again I heard my fake name... depression devoured my hunger in one swallow,  the beginning of a tumor

"I... I just want to do your will... other may ask for love... or comfort... or wisdom...  or answers... and that isn't bad..."

"...but all I ask and beg... is to have Your will be done... use me in anyway you see fit... it doesn't matter what I must suffer... I'll forever praise you and be glad..."

"Show me your will and way..." I confirmed... not caring if people saw me as fool of weakness and hopelessness...

I heard two sets of foot steps behind me, my skin on edge, my small cold hearted hands revealing their recklessness

Running out of the back exit, I heard my nick name again, freezing I turned around to see them panting from exhaustion

Two of my fellow followers if you will, took me captive, and reintroduced me to the loud company of people in motion

Only meaning the best, I followed them and lined up with the other Christ fighting soldiers

Hand over our hearts, I didn't feel the comforts of the third crowns jewel... my eyes scattering around the hollow gym... I saw beads roll of my shoulder...

Embarrassed... I back away from the line to wonder off alone... I left without being questioned

The beads on the floor shared with me their fears of being crushed, and loneliness. Telling me to ignore the session

Seeking around my thrown for answers... I found nothing... so off again I ran... plunging my self into the silence

My black rose laced arms cross I looked around for that bottled jewel. To it, I am a giant

More then a charm... more then something that hung around my neck... It was a story... a story that redirected my path...

The tiniest things can have the most incomparable meaning... like one of the five cities of the Philistines where Goliath came from; Gath...

Such a small detail we don't often recognize... But such a butterfly effect can create a rip the space time continuum.

I found my jewel... hiding alone in a corner in that hall that contained many beautiful moments that are anything but a residuum.

Filled with relief, I gently picked it up and hide it tightly in the palm of my hand

A little bottle filled with bird seeds and rock dove feathers, indeed it's vanity, but meanings should be scanned

Walking back to my piers,  I couldn't help but to catch some of their eyes lay on me.

I don't blame them, I made a spectacle of my self over wanting to be alone and a charm, but I had to make a plea...

Entering my self into the group, I look towards the shining silver bleachers where my two chained necklace and bottled charm laid...

Silly of my to say... but someday the third chain will be restored... but it will have a new story to proclaim...

I still could see the scattered beads, they surround the people I claimed as my home, I know each face

Yes... My emotions are in a scatter, but at least they are scatter in the same place...

Here we are as we sit and rejoice
Singing in union for God one voice,
Today the first if his son's advent
Voices of his children from heaven sent.

Today we gather to share our gifts he gave
Sharing in a world he died to save,
I looked over and wondered why ideas called hear,
This I Did for a year now it's very clear.

Each Sunday we begin with a song to start
A smile; a handshake, a hug even a hello,
No matter which it's a welcome from the heart
A prayer; a recital; a chat; a refreshment afore ye go.

It's in the Lord we come to rejoice
United as one he hears our voice,
The children go to learn and play
Joyfully returning with what they made today.

Today isn't just any Sunday
It's the first of four in our advent,
Born of Mary and Joseph in a manger he lay
Two thousand years passed to return one day.

Remembering our saviour like loved ones who pass,
As we sit at the table waiting for Christmas.

copyright Grant Dickson 03/12/2017

I feel alone
But not always
The voices
The sadistic, vile voices.
They keep me company.
Like any child raised in a church
You begin to get used to talking how they do.
Copying their words
Mimicking their actions
Wearing what they wear.
No, my voices don’t sing hymns.
They don’t wear Sunday’s best.
They don’t plaster on a friendly smile.
But they also don’t compare me to the other girls.
I think..
They don’t talk about me behind my back.
Or do they?
No, No. They don’t flaunt my secrets.
They wouldn’t.. Right?
Church people are different then voices.
Much different...