I hate when people use the psalm to say,
“our bodies are wonderfully made,”
but they don't teach us that our minds
are made wonderfully as well

I am fearfully made but I am fearful
for I have been taught through this teaching
that my body was made more wonderfully than my mind

Jesus has a God also in scripture,
We need to see the bigger picture;
Why does Jesus call his father "My God"?
We are not to be forever in a fog,
A mystery there is none; no more;
Jesus on the cross for sinners implores;
"My God, My, God,
Why hast thou forsaken me?"
Is there not more here to see?
"...I ascend unto my father and your father; To my God and your God"
Jesus is seated at his father's right hand; Is not the trinity flawed?
God is not a mutiple personality seated beside himself; (That's odd)
"And this is life eternal to know thee the only true God,
And Jesus Christ whom thou has sent."
Fair people, that's the end of my intent.

I entered Grande parlour of elegance where is placed bronze statue unique

Beside wide patio glass-paneled doors. “Shipped from Italy,” her Owner’s critique

Stepping closer, my curious nature sees child’s form, perhaps five, plus one

Clad poor, feet bare, head downcast. Clasps round vessel empty of duties undone

Illusions of her Artist haunt me. Why brown metal a child colored so?

Her innocence tainted, darkened, bleak. Why not a face pearled, soft cameo?

I peer in her eyes hallowed, countenance sad. She stands across from me

Near smoothed, bronze dolphin cast in glass, ****** from frothed waves sea

I think merrily, “You live where sea creatures play, power driven, dive ocean deep

Squeal with delight, let’s ride aquatic prince of Atlantic who does not sleep!

Or, “Do you hope to soar to third heaven, where bronze eagle behind you can fly?

Moon shadows beckon us to jewel stars on veiled, velvet blackened sky”

Or, “ Could I offer you a melon-porcelain rose? Fragrance perfume fills room you’re in

Petals never fade. Would you wear garlands on small feet, frail hands, brown hair so thin?”

“Angelina, come, listen to night sounds! Leave tasks mundane for a time

Frogs creak, leap high, jump gleefully, come to soft sand dunes we’ll climb!

Will you ride wail winds of tempest, hurricane water crash smooth sand?

Just beneath your window safe most days, but hurls destruction on demand!

Does music of your Owner excite you? Tunes, ballads, songs, new and old?

Melodies you never knew where you grew, stories of love you untold

Instruments: string, ebony, ivory keys, soothe soul, lift spirits high

Loud drums beat march jubilant. Music to laugh with, music to cry”

My mind stills. Angelina becomes bronze again, dress of white linen gone homespun

My imaginations for her happiness for a moment quiets, our fantasies clearly undone

This is why your Artist formed you, so mankind could see in your face

Divine hands help mold bronze your form, your simplicity man must embrace

Ill leave grande parlour of elegance from Angelina, bronze statue unique

Not Italian, but universal child-alloy. Words unsaid, so loud does she speak!

Of an Artist inspired to fire her. Of a Buyer perceptive to see

A child in need of needs to fulfill throughout life of man’s history

Child’s image, thin hair, poorly clad, feet bare. Rich in lessons clearly taught

By Master-Artist is Angelina, little teacher. Forget her not

“Angelina, did you give water to the thirsty? Was bread given away all you had?

Coarse shawl you don’t wear, did it cover an old friend? Did you visit prison comforting Dad?

In small village, do you care-give Mother often sick, rush on your hurried little feet?

Do you invite another child like you to humble hut on Lonely Street?”

Reminds me, words of Scripture, Master Teacher, Jesus said

“I was thirsty and drink you provided. I was hungry you gave meat and bread

As stranger you took Me in your place, naked you clothed Me poor alone

Sheltered Me, tattered and torn, lonely, no place to call home”

“I was sick, Jesus said, “You visited. To My prison cell you came

Downcast, forsaken,” He says, “ Angelina do you know My name?”

Lord send me Your naked, Your hungry, Strangers many in thirst

Sick in pain, prisoners behind walls, lonely, unloved at worst

Teach us to live Your words, like You help us to be

“In as much as You do to these,” Jesus said, :My brethren you do unto Me.”

And when you read,
don't rush.
Theres no need to read
with undue speed.

And when you read
start with a suckle -
work up to a nibble -
until you can gnaw without a dribble.
I encourage you:
get down to the marrow
like there's no tomorrow.
Savour each word
as food for your soul
and live as a model
as to how to live whole.

And when you read
apply your mind daily,
apply each word liberally
(especially to those out of the way
hard to reach places).

And when you read
- study
Sometimes with a buddy,
but - study.
This is no hobby,
you can't afford to get sloppy.
It's as crucial for the soul
as five a day for the body.
- So study.

And when you read
treat each word
like a tutor;
it can teach you
how to live shrewder.

And when you read
sustain it like a seed,
ensure you pay heed
cos it will never mislead.

And when you read
do it to a plan,
always with intent
and be sure
to finish as you began.

And when you read
commit to it daily,
commit it to memory
to avoid thinking lazily.

And when you read:
Do it while a commuter
Do it on a computer
Do it with a kindle
Do it with audio
Do it with a paperback
Do it from front to back.
However you develop the knack
don't let yourself slack;
this Word is no throwback,
it will keep your feet on track.
- so just read.

Me! I! Myself! Mine!

I shout these words in militant exertion,
Demanding people to stop,
Commanding them to hear,
Ordering their full, undivided, worshipful attention.

"Am I not the centre of the universe!? Listen to ME!" I scream,
And sulk like an angry child as the world continues on,
Unperturbed, unaltered, un-adoring,
Without even noticing my voice.

If no one else will pay me heed,
Then I, at least, must do so.
So I worship my own image,
And prostrate myself before the alter of my self conceit.
I sing my own praises to my own ear,
And ******* myself to myself
in a vain attempt to satisfy my undying vanity.

Oh, you vainglorious *******!
Made illegitimate by the illegitimacy of your false worship
And the hypocrisy of your heart.
Do you not know, you were made to kneel? Fashioned to bow,
Not to your own image, but before the visage if Him Who made you in His own likeness
That you might bear within yourself the most sacred cartouche,
The most precious signet,
The most holy seal.

For you have been called to higher things than this broken clay vessel you defile with your adulterous worship.
Oh, you conceited fool!
Puffed up in your own pride,
Unaware of how utterly worthless you have made yourself.

And yet your Maker still stoops from Heaven
To hear your piteous moans,
And His heart weeps to see your self-inflicted wounds.

Thus He reaches down
And whispers His deepest Love to you
While you are yet gleefully drowning in your sin.

So unaware are you of anything but fleshly gratification.
But He touches you,
When you least expect it.
Like pearls discovered in a dung heap,
He surprises you with the Treasure of His Grace.
And with the tenderness of His Loving touch,
Lifts you from your mire and whispers in your ear:

"Oh, my Little Worm, I am your Redeemer."