The Sixth Of July

In quietness I ride on the forefront of a great transformation
With my need for healing and my long burning embers
I beg in a silence of sorts for a savior,
When we want too much we can miss what we need
Casting it off as if a binding hindrance
But a few years on in living brings us to peaces doorstep
And we see what we lost, what we needed was on it
I feel I was the hinges to your door and without movement you grow quiet
Baptisms clean what confession only teaches and redemption will seal what you let mercy start.
Last night I saw myself clearly on the side of the road and in our old haunts
I've wrestled with fear, regret and wisdom
And at the end of it all love won't be denied
I can't have answers if I don't question
Broke down and wounded I let Jesus find me
My one prayer for you is always mercy
Though your method for me was a silent vengeance




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2 Peter 3:9

The Lord is not slow to fulfill His promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you. Not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.

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ghosts of beaches past

this week has been a mild kaleidoscope and though I'm not sure that's spelled right, it's feeling exact
and I'm deciding and deciding and deciding every now and then if I'm okay,
but mostly I won't let myself stop for just long enough to decide
as I count the costs of each distraction, does sanity or peace triumph or battle on
youth and the re-hashing of the same sobers even as it revitalizes again & anew
I'm less sure of anything about you but slowly less scared of myself

over-achiever

In my spare time I'm an acrobat, flipping, bending & sliding through my emotions
Usually hoping to change them, while they churn me, while I toss and turn
Another night, another dreamless wake, another stark contrast to hope
Your own mind creates a more tiring maze than anyone else made you
I'm not ashamed but I may be asleep, when you get this, when you answer
The truth may be cut up and turned into an envelope, it won't have to be sent
I won't need to be spent, won't need to tell you, you're the only one who owes me
Who owns me, who broke me, who spent me, who used me, who crushed me, who had me.
Who had me, who held me, who turned me and tried me world without end Amen
And again till death do us part, til death do us wake, till death do us... don't.
And for all the love and the being had, I don't think we ever got past what you wanted
Just like you skipped that in pre-school & other areas of early childhood development
I wish I had skipped a few of those gifted and special classes
and what intuition forced on me, on the chosen few, the smart ones, the old young ones
Who know better than what they feel, and who think better than some machines
And who endlessly, tirelessly, anxiously, methodically, addictively, analytically, passionately wish that they didn't.
Those still looking, there's hope for our lost souls, hope for the ones that took the detour right after you let your heart decide when you've always known your head was right.
There is a salve, a healing, mending, effervescent peace, but be forewarned,
It passes all understanding, so unlike you thought, the intellectuals don't always finish first