The esoteric-ism
Of eroticism
Is the fact
That
God
Made us that way.

Call the demons out
In His name
And do NOT
Let
(the enemy)
Take it from you.

It is
A special fruit
A succulent wine
To be set (only)
At the table
Of Commitment.

Would you build your fire in the woodshed,
So that it would burn with a glorious intensity,
And soon it would be gone?

Or would you kindle it slowly with careful spark,
And distance between its warmth and its fuel,
So it burns for eternity?

We are both the fuel,
Spaced afar from the fire,
That would not kindle without joined hearts.

We both bring our fuel,
In measured amounts,
To the fire still burning brightly.

We cannot remain,
But soon must leave,
So the fire continues to burn.

But always we carry,
The warmth of the fire,
To be shared by the travelers we meet.

Someday I will settle,
By the fire at your side,
And together we both will find rest.

My mother taught me
Music,
Poetry,
Words,
Love,
The day is not done
Until you find all the beauty
It has to give.

My father taught me
Work,
Persistence,
Integrity,
Love,
The day is not done
Until all those under your care
Have all they need.

My Father taught me
Love.
Everlasting
Submissive
Love.
The day is not done
Until you have shed yourself
Of guilt that was never yours.

Guilt nearly destroyed me.
Gracious love restored me.

There was a beginning
Will there be an end (?)
Shhhhhh…
(Say that softly!)
(You dare not speak it into being!)

Always
Between two points
There is:

INFINITY

So…
I will pretend
It always was
It never will end

So...
I will place it
ALL ALWAYS
In God’s Hands

“Explain to Me again
What time is to you
But think carefully
Before you tell Me
What you wish it to be”

Still
Always
There
I
Stand
For
You

Because THAT
Is what you do.

She spent her life
On her knees.
Praying?
No, cursing.
Her hands ached,
Her fingers bled.
Her life’s mission
To organize
All things that grew.

She cursed the weeds…

Pulled them,
Tore them,
Sought to destroy them.

Everywhere…

The garden,
The yard,
Even in the fields of crops.

Her back was bent,
Her shoulders ached,
Her hands,
Gnarled and twisted.

And?

The weeds came back.
I think they mocked her,
Saying:
“We bloom too!”

Think of the good
Your hands can do
When they are NOT
Driven
By the shallow nature
Of your judgments.

I dreamed a dream one night...
I laid alone.
(No...deserted!)
Fitful slumber…
Mind full of others’ ideas.
I sought knowledge,
To put letters after my name.
And yet,
My heart
Did not want to be there.

The Glass Wall,
YOU on the other side.
(Funny how it is YOU now)
Dream woman,
Your fiery hair,
A halo around your head.
Beauty that took my breath.
The gasp that would become
A welcome part of my life.
Perfect woman.

Your bright, piercing eyes
Saw my every flaw.
And yet…
Your arms stretched eagerly
To hold me to you strong
Eyes closed tight,
In perfect peace.
But the wall was there...
I could not go,
But I did not care.

I was too young then.
(“Just a silly dream!”)
Did not know God,
As I know him now.
He waited…
Then He brought me
The fiery haired woman
Woman who took my breath.
Woman of my dream.
Perfect woman.

Your bright, piercing eyes
See my every flaw.
Your arms stretch out eagerly
To hold me to you strong.
Eyes closed tight,
In perfect peace,
Behind the glass wall…