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| may 2015 |
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| new again | 3:02am saturday, 30th may |
did you hear of something new in the world?
it is called “love”
it was made 2000 years ago by a carpenter
when he died of torture
and did not miss the chance to be perfect
his name is Jesus Christ
IS, not was, because before everything, HE IS
he did a few things
but left it to the rest of us to do even greater
he rose from the dead
not in story like the rest who were told did
they were not the Christ
for i myself am a witness to the Resurrection
even as i am unworthy
i am witness to the truth of what is “love”
and there is yet more
what is love shall never be spent its last
the face of eternity
he saves us, not from danger, but ourselves
to life everlasting
blessed is the one who sees Heaven–everywhere
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| fingers | 2:06pm monday, 18th may |
i imagine fingers emanating the aroma of wine
like a whisper that things are not as they seem
i am a subversive truth, with hints of another world
verily, have i dreamed so very often?
i cry out that darkness will not withstand our fire
but these are only candles that we wield
symmetries broken as we learn to doubt
though will i find asylum in the memory of my rose
time is a vagrant air we ignore till it becomes deadly
swirl the possibilities till they all assemble
in magic does life imagine the smallest of destinies
and i breathed of the high smoke of eternity
to return, still me, wearing the soul of a saint
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| NotArt #2 | 5:43am sunday, 10th may |
Another photo that inspired me to add some text to it. What do you think? 
Click above to get a larger version. I finally figured out what the Black Iron Prison actually is.
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| drop | 4:18am monday, 4th may |
to drop into the lap of love
dancing within the secret life of flowers
like angels on the head of a pin
and to bring out in your step a mastery of life
(concern ourselves in the fashion of ephemeral troubles)
have you not heard? the Good News to riddle?
the best story wins
the pieces made to fit together
we cut no corners
it’s meant to give at each the open edge
what tune is it in the susurrus atmosphere of the Movie?
the music that makes us sound
(as i waltz with a burning one)
i know, for one, luck is no beggar
i to have fashioned my own very hands
to have been favored to dip in the gravity of it all
the rose without art i dropped in her lap
the story composing itself past anxious first maneuvers
this dream does not end like you think
the best story wins
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