How awesome is your name throughout the earth and your majesty is far beyond  the wonder of the earth and the heavens far above. It is exalted by all creation, even from the mouths of newborns. You have fashioned praise in defense against evil and chaos and render them powerless. I look to the heavens to marvel at your handiwork. The sun, the moon, the stars that you alone, by a word, have set in place. How is it that one as great and awesome as you would notice us, to care, and love us? But in all our frailty and mortality you have created us to be like you, a little lower than the angels. You gave us glory and honor. You have us power and authority to rule over what you have fashioned. You gave us dominion over the birds in the sky, the fish in the sea, and the beasts of the field. You have given us all of this. How awesome, how great, is your name Oh Lord My God throughout all the earth!

Lord, we exalt and we praise your name through all the earth. How great how marvelous are the works you have made. You have lifted us up from our smallness and weakness to be like you, to be close to you. You have given us power, authority, and dominion over your creation. Help us to be good stewards to take care of and nurture all of creation and all life. We are too prone to turn our thoughts to the evil one and we don't always protect and respect this gift as we ought. Forgive us Lord, look with love and compassion upon your beloved, and lead us back to yourself once more. Amen.

Your eyes be given to the Great Beholder
His days are your thousand years.
You are but a breath;
But here I am, to stretch out
Every pile of your foundation.
Only by grace, never will you be pit-slipped.

Let darkness be not proud of itself
I have come to bring halt those terrors
Even those rebellious thoughts of yours
All together, they’re leeches to your soul;
I will arise your soul instead,
Only if you let me change your heart.

I never am distant, let me hold your life;
You can breakthrough the dark in defense
I’ll arise with His Light, w/ the Heaven’s army
And we shall meet as my Kingdom come.

Bright is the moon; impure are the stars
But you are ever-special to me
Never had your course be shifted
By the Throne Beholder.

I’ve known you very well,
Truth, I give to You
I am your Blood Donor.
You breathe, “Yahweh”
For I have restored our entity.

Never will I leave my heritage,
Coz you are my heritage,
And inside of you is a living generation.
You are more than my life; you are my life.
*Only, will you allow me be your life?

I pay my ticket to enter the giant
concrete staircase on the periphery
of the bay of San Francisco.

***** Mays and other boyhood
heroes would do their magic
along this shore for so many years.

Now that I no longer feel the
baseball enthrallment–
because my body cannot see
itself moving with such speed and grace–
I dream of a different crowd.

Homer pitching the ball,
as someone must start the play;
Lao Tsu striking with wood
at what moves so fast it
can barely be seen.

Such hollow sound as ball
is soul-bound into the ether
of the Psalms. Emily
Dickinson snags the high hit.

The onomatopoeiac crowd
lifts its unified heart to
the resounding cheer of
Walt Whitman on grassy
outfield of bliss.

This warm day in the concrete
hang-out, I see in the concrete
dug-out such heavy hitters
lined up for a quick swat at glory.

Maybe something soothing
in between the innings–
an oriole or an Indian foot dance,
while I dream of dancing in my sox.

So I scuttled up, until I found a voice like Japan, I read him his rights, turned out the lights, and laid right back on the sand. They said, "Sir, he was much of a father to me, but we were labeled his kin, right in our family tree." "Oh wow", I said, with a gentle, smooth voice, he went missing last August, but now he wants back you boys?" "Oh yes, he sure is a feral man. We think that's why he dried up and flew to Japan." Right then, the two of them went silent just like two second story men, so I inquired, "What happened then?" "From Monday thru Sunday he took to prayer from the bible, and on every other weeknight he watched Japan's Top Model. He threw gallant parties to a harem of wives, he read each of their palms, and looked in their eyes; some time later, when everyone was about to leave, he'd turn on Happy End and start a wild ****." By this time I was tired, the sun began to set, I grew tired of my beach patch and yearned for my bed. Although soporific, I tried to be polite, I said, "Let's finish this conversation some other time." "Of course!", they said, "We're off to bed. We'll see that you'll do the same." Then they stood up quick, and reached down and picked up my chains. The beach we laid on was black top, asphalt and tar, the bed I craved was behind a row of private bars. The two of them, them both, were children of mine, because my memory is shot, this might've been their millionth time. i got locked up in a county that's dry as a beach, like Elizabethtown, Kentucky, where I was raised till 13. No one, not even the warden, knows really why I'm here, even some man from Cell Block Five, asked me last Sunday, why was I here. My beach perhaps, it's love at last, concrete, gravel, and stone- a 6' x 10' room with bars and a porcelain throne. It's mine I cry, each night I die, with glee, with smile, with rite. But it makes the other guys run at me, and try to start random fights. I don't remember the boat I took, but I remember the tour, going to Japan at Epcot Center since I'd never gone before.