Love as Christ loved
the church
No small thing
Love as Christ loves
the church
No simple thing
Love as Christ loved
the church
No small thing
Love as Christ loves
the church
No simple thing
flow grates against the grain
bonds and connects break,
pulled, reforming, reaching,
SNAP–
broken–
moves away.
//
the self is shattered
old ideas crack
reveal child self in pain.
//
cracks, perturbed, reaching into
shards. pulled away.
what I thought was clear was a mirror
concealing a mask.
the mask I thought was flesh slips.
the knowledge of self distrubed.
//
swirling flow, life cintinues,
I want it all to stop-
to pick up the pieces,
examine each and understand
it’s purpose and placement in the whole
//
the pieces fly away in the wind.
a maelstrom- pulls at my
mask I didn’t know was a mask.
shocked to my core-
stillness is not an option.
Inaction isn’t an option-
I take it anyway.
publish broadcast, reaching out
to flow, read communicate-words are wind
wind that stays in place is writing.
don’t know where it comes from or where it goes,
but never still.
House breach the mass transition of stationary wind,
captured for millennia.
my words are my wind, air that moves.
writing captures my wind, cease the endless rustling,
transmit to others across space and time
(a day, a continent, a century, a galaxy)
the spread of captured wind, taken for the eyes and skin,
contained repeated, remembered.
Impacting and shaping the future and the new now.
to publish.
to feel the pressure from a dying self
a mimicry, a mask that fades
the pressure builds,
something clings to the mask as it crumbles,
as something else wants to push it away.
the new self is born
the old mask dies
yet that which dies tries to cling to life.
//
I progress down my journey and take the steps-of-growth
the old self fades, but clings to life
fighting its’ own death
yet it must die.
I must take those steps.
Sinking into the flesh, I cling to the flesh
a dying thing.
it flickers and fades and it clings all the harder.
I must lean into the Spirit.
it is life,
true life leads to truer happiness, it feels
ephemeral, wispy, mist
yet it is more
enduring, more real, more true
than any flesh or bone.
You let me wonder where I will,
You respect my choices.
You let me wonder where I want,
You respect my choices.
You will let me wander where I wish,
You respect my choices.
You let me wander,
You respect my choices.
when I wander close to You,
when my wandering heart leads me back to You,
You respect my choices.
You respect me.
You respect the gifts You’ve given me.
I do it for myself and my well runs dry.
I do it for myself and my pen runs out of ink,
my voice grows course and cracked.
I do it for myself and my
ideas die,
energy fades and
crashes.
I do it for my own glory and
it tarnishes.
When I do it for You,
I shine;
I shine Your light.
When I do it for You, the ideas are abundant and beautiful.
When I do it for You, the pen never stops flowing.
The well overflows with
ideas, and creativity, and joy,
and sorrow, and ecstasy, and pain, and inspiration.
When I do it for You the energy never runs out.
I’m always full.
When I do it for myself, my energy runs down.
I whither.
I run dry.
I die.
I don’t have a middle setting.
Yet I walk into moderation.
I step out of gluttony
into moderation.
But I am not
natural
to it.
The chains that bound me
though they’re different than they used to be
different different than they used to be.
But yet, they’re still the same.
Different than they used to be,
different than they used to be.
The chains that bound me are different than they used to be,
but yet they’re still the same.
A man sold for so little,
he could pay for himself,
he has a foundation.
When he himself has cracks, nothing else stands.
—
I cannot pay my own way,
I cost too much. I’m worth more
than I could hope to afford.
Am I cheap enough that I could buy me?
The lies I believe, cannot stand before the Face of God.
His love shines through,
it breaks the glue
that binds me to deceit.
Lies cannot stand before Him.
They flee and fall–
disintegrate…
The things my mind does brings them back.