When the universe sets me on a course, the gravity blindly leads me to your voice.
Where there is no distance, no hour can keep me apart from what’s already written in my heart.

I’ve wandered with different names, I’ve forgotten the times where we’ve met.
And though our lives may turn and spin, my soul found you again.

Once our paths eclipse, all my eyes can see is you and my world quietly falls to second place.
I begin to wish that space holds me forever in that place.

I cast an eternal light that reveals my warm truth, but behind you a darker side of the moon.
Although we’ll never be the same, our stars still whisper each other’s name.

Fearless I may seem to be, when the day comes where my light fades and I move to another plane.
What truly scares me the most is knowing somewhere out there, a universe where we never meet.

Even if this cursed love is mine alone, it is still yours, l etched in the stars, carved into time.

a simply regrettable sin.

since i was a kid,
it never changed, i mean: i still own all my thoughts?
however i imagine things i used to think i would never.
i swear it’s the same, yet it’s all so different and far from me.

sometimes a few words
can make a real
difference
in someones
life.

It’s so inspiring: to live.
To sense,
To hear,
To see life.

Nothing’s certain,
Nothing’s ordinary,
Nothing’s a fact
Though nothing’s a lie.

The world’s so different,
So incompatible
Yet all of it moves on
Together.

And in every bit of that ‘together’,
There’s something to learn,
Something to feel,
Something to love.

Remember, we live in a universe that doesn’t.  repeat itself.
You cannot be identical to anyone else.
So sharpen your gaze just a bit more
To see what really makes us us.

I'm not just "included" here, I belong.
I don't just benefit here, I'm belov-ed.
I'm not tolerated, I'm celebrated.
My mates don't bear with me
for I bear the full image of my Maker
and my Maker is a perfectionist,
making holy vessels fit to carry his presence
and each week His presence walks
and wheels through the front doors here at Cafe Church.

An emotional wind,
just to clear the daily fields,
to ask a moment after,
with childish tenderness.

They have a soul
like an old building,
with a million windows,
and one locked door.

They are so different,
more than a straight line.
They save the world,
seeing, feeling, not less.

Not a doctoral degree,
no frame that fits.
Perhaps don’t read the words,
they think beyond two and one.

They burn the dinner,
tangled in their inner world.
Flickering light, voice—
A scratch of structure is too much.

States of agitation,
flow of information,
and the beautiful creatures,
make sense without logic.

They give to this dimension
more than they’ll ever know.
Paradox in the crowd,
unclassified,
a blessing for society,
yet invisible.

Praise to fright,
Out of sight,
I hold my light.

I hold it darkness;
Others see it as bliss,
I see something’s amiss.

Praise I hate.
Bliss, leave it to fate,
And none the better to crate.

I practice low,
To hold my light amongst flow,
To gather more to not show,
For what needs to sow.

I hold my light.
I know.
I hide the blight.
They won’t know.
I hide their sight,
For fear they woe.

Difference is the fear,
The normalcy that is clear.
For the light they hate,
The darkness full they ate.
I know their bait.

For my lights timid,
And For that I hid.

Let's all make a change,
Come together as one,
as we Unite in harmony,
Under the rising sun.

Let's come to an agreement,
As we put our heads together,
From this, accept achievements, and
Make this World so much better.

Let's go and talk it out,
without temperament or strife,
Let's make a BIG DIFFERENCE,
Let's make EVERYTHING ALRIGHT.

Let's have ourselves a CHAT,
See what we can CONTRIBUTE and DO,
MAKING A DIFFERENCE will help,
Let it all begin WITHIN YOU!!!!


B.R.
Date: 4/11/2025

"Bob, track some mud on the carpet"
Words from Johnny Cash to Bob Dylan, a nudge to take risks and leave a mark.
“You are the light of the world…let your light shine before others.”  Matthew 5.14. Words from someone who knew how to leave a mark. We can do the same.

I
Have you left some mud on the carpet?
When did you last leave a stain?
Do your words make an impression?
Will you risk sounding insane?
How will you best be remembered?
How soft are you tempted to tread?
How long will your footsteps echo,
in the years after you’re dead?
Why do you think you were here?
Why do you have breath within you?
Why do you have all these questions,
when there're answers that've always been true?

II
Created to be the creators.
Gifted to speak others' minds.
Your art is a voice unspoken.
A light to open their eyes.
So next time you walk in a room,
look for the ones in the crowd.
Those who show recognition
of the things you don’t dare say out loud.
These are your tribe and your family.
These are the ones you can trust.
Together you might find a way
to help new life form from the mud.