Long before her brain figured it out
her heart raced and fluttered
At the sound of his voice
At the length of his stride
At the breath of his knowledge
At the charm of his presence.

Her head said, “Oh, he is merely a good friend.
Yeah, you both click on an intellectual level,
But that is all there will ever be to it.”
Was the damsel wrong and at what cost?
Her poor, tender heart feels differently,
But as usual, will it calmly yield to the
Dictates of her ever-imposing head?
For a season, she managed to brush aside her dilemma.

No matter how much she tried to ignore it,
her heart pounded at the mention of his name.
Whether rightly or wrongly,
Whether it was meant to be or not,
All she knows is that her heart flutters
At the depth of his wisdom,
At the warmth of his smile,
At the thought that he cared.
If only she let her heart lead the way,
Rather than acquiesce to her assuming head.
Her head seeks for a safe, comfortable choice,
But her heart prefers the risky and unexplainable.

In her naivety, she thought the flutters were short-lived.
Reason suggests if she ignores them, and
Refuses to characterize what her heart knows,
Time would erase the flutters.
Well, time will tell.
Time will tell!

“Inasmuch as you did it to one
of the least of these my brethren,
You did it to me,” proclaimed the Master.
Inasmuch as the body is one
Tuning out the least among us
Is an act of self sabotage.

The mystery of many members in one body
Precludes apathy- abominable ambivalence toward the elect.
The epidemic of savage inequalities in the church
is a glaring act of self-sabotage.

To truly thrive is to transcend temporal tendencies–
it’s measured in connection with the brethren.
To prosper alone is alien to the gospel.
In such a mundane state, shiftiness and perfidy abound.

In an age of narcissism where tokenism thrives,
The redeemed spin out of balance
by taking their cue from the world.

By minding the least of these,
and by shunning an unholy, self-absorbed trend,
We are spared the cataclysm foretold.
There’s comfort in the unity of the faithful
That other state is pure self-sabotage,
added to the drudgery of life.

The acorn is threatened and desired
A delightsome delicacy for predators- big and small.
The lucky ones emerge as oak seedlings.
As each taproot burrows to the heart of the earth,
the sapling doth heavenward shoot.

At the mercy of the elements,
The tender sapling’s survival seems
like a fanciful daydream,
one that slumbers in the womb of time.

In the acorn is hidden immense energy
to sustain the sapling until self-sufficiency it attains.
But will the sapling survive the forces of nature-
The floods, fires, and fall foes?

The Tender steps forth to prune in hope
with fired imagination and starry eyes,
He beholds, not a sapling, but a majestic oak.
From sunrise, He draws from his creative aliveness
as He nurtures and nourishes it
to pave the way for a coveted dream.

He is ever lost in ruminations
about the strength of the future Ancient
to provide soccur and solace
to generations yet unborn,
long after his final bow.
He is comforted that
underneath its soothing shade,
Youngsters will find
private escape from the drudgery of life.

She wore endurance as a cloak.
Tried ever so sorely and wrongly,
she committed all to the Vindicator.
In her resolute quietness, she spoke volumes.

For her ardent disparagers,
her payback was tireless hours of intercession.
As she stoically embraced undeserved tribulations,
she gained character, wisdom, and tranquility.

Who dares put out the brilliance of a star?
Her sublimity resonates evermore in the
darkest patch of the night.
Though seared with scars,
her stellar virtues are glaring,
illuminating hearts and inspiring minds.

She can’t feign ordinariness,
even if she hides behind her own shadow.
Detached from a frenzied world,
she derived her essence from heavenly fire.

Oh, had they known the fount from whence she drank,
they would not have, in malignity,
ensnared their own souls
in a bid to put out her luminous radiance.
They have murdered sleep through their ignoble gestures.

Behold the star as she abides in the firmaments!
Purified by the trials and tribulations,
she stoically endures and thrives.
The sky may be bespangled with twinkling stars,
but her brilliance stands out in luminary distinction.

Oh, ye of little faith…
“Know ye not that He shall
Give His angels charge over thee,
to keep thee?” inquired the Sage.

Hm… I hear the same charge was levied against the Lord.
In truth, to grow in leaps of faith is my heart’s sole desire,
so increase my faith I pray thee, Oh Lord!
“But pray tell me, thou Sage, since an outbreak of salmonella most dire,
with symptoms of gastroenteritis and chills,
at this very moment plagues fifteen states still,
shall faithful saints in affected states
eat unwashed but sanctified fruits and veggies,
and thus prove their strong and abiding faith?”

Also, lest I forget the angels who must daily don scrubs and masks,
“I pray tell me, what must we impressed upon such gentle souls
Who must daily don scrubs and masks?
Why does society abuse humanity’s best so,
when their sole desire is our wellness from head to toe?”
Speak not of the numbers who must have grave prices
paid for services they must unto the sick bestow.

Doubtlessly, with such an awakened consciousness,
One need not dread wintry days and nights.
Who needs fur coats, cashmere blankets, or campfires
When in faith we bash in warm, celestial delights?

Oh, thine uncommon wisdom, Oh Sage,
is to be extolled and praised by generations yet unborn.
Every life is merely a fleeting performance on a stage;
thus, make haste to engrave in stone such wisdom for the forlorn.