The Ones

What waters crash, what fires burn

That can abate the impassioned soul?

Whose words deceive, whose arrows pierce

The Ones with hearts made whole?

The Ones, they share a path their own.

With faith they see they're not alone!

The Ones, they have a great power to wield

And it acts with Life as their glorious shield.

As another looks on, he sees not men

But grace and hope that shines beyond

To draw wanderers to Him again.

The Ones, they fight and they rage

Only tomorrow to pray and cage

All anger to mourn for those who oppose their way.

The Ones tear up and scatter dry bones

To merge and gather battered stones.

The Ones live with Love in their hearts

And hatred for things which break apart

The strings and ropes that connect them to their Start.

The Ones are joyful in every Season;

In Summer, Winter, Fall, Spring they find reason

To rejoice in all that is perceived.

The Ones stand on their Hills and watch.

They watch as the birds soar in the morn

And fire bursts up from beneath at dusk.

Their visage never leaves as others wrong the tusk

And poach humanity of that with which we're born:

Innocence beaten and broken by nightmares,

But still The Ones unfailingly keep their stares

On that which is below and consumes their prayers.

The Ones are hated, envied, and judged

While they ensure never to keep a grudge.

It is The Ones that give and beg of others to Live

Above the filth, disease, and Death that hurt and misgive.

Only The Ones have removed the veil

And see Beauty to tell the tale.

The Ones watch on their Hills and witness the End.

They smile and embrace as their weary souls no longer have to defend

Truth and Love from being perverted and lost.

The Ones are finally repaid for their cost

As they reach the resting place of the Cross.

Between The Cracks (Inspired by John Mark McMillan)

"There's a man down here, somewhere between those Saturday cartoons and the dirty magazines, He's raising the dead in the graveyards where we've laid down our dreams and His name is Hope." - John Mark McMillan

Have you ever awoken to the vision of dreams,

Only seeing a sliver of light through the door's small seams?

And in those cracks comfort is found,

For the darkness alone would crush and drown.

What of the walks you have taken of recent?

Remember the bits and pieces of chords gone out of tune

Talking of sex, drugs, or a meaningless noon...

Then the man speaking of Love.

Bless that man!

He thinks True and gives chance to yesterday's gloom.

What of our things, haven't you noticed?

Stream-lined, trimmed, but cold and dead even still.

Yet many feel more for the screen, their letters and tones.

But have I not said what will come of such drones?

Yet The Hills still stand and take refugees

Fleeing their lives of angry misdeeds;

They live now between the cracks and become

The seams, leaking out light to those who need.

Studies

I have studied so much Organic Chemistry in the past 48 hours I almost can't stop thinking about electrons; they are everything.

It is a Journey

     Over the past couple of weeks (especially this one) God has taken me on an epic Journey in my mind. He has instilled ideals and systems in me to which I can put no name. I have no clue where He is leading me, but I feel His presence. I am so thankful for this growth; I am trying to hold to it steadfastly, without waver.
     It may be the film scores and classical music I've been listening to recently (like right now), but I am experiencing both the grandeur and the horribleness of humanity (I am also reading Les Misérables). He has taken me through this rationale of how great humanity can be, but how wicked we can turn. For some reason or another - I'll not question it - this, and many other factors, have helped to improve my prayer life. What is this?! I don't even understand where it comes from, but I accept it for what it is because I know it comes from God. I know it so firmly I'll put it like this: I feel the breath of Jesus as He whispers to the Holy Spirit who walks with me. (Now this is figurative speech, I haven't had a vision of Jesus or literally felt His breath, but I have experienced sensations of...unexpainable content.)
     To the horribleness of humanity I'll give a word. I am not supposing that I am exempt from this notion, but that Jesus is. With that being said, I feel a great sadness for those who "know not what they do." I know I have growth because my focus on the lost does not rest on their "bad habits/wicked ways, etc." (whatever people have called immoral or ill-advised behavior), but rather my focus is turned to how sad it is that life is being missed (note here: I am listening to "Lamentations of the Heart" by Philip Wesley, so I could easily sound lamenting). Yet, that is exactly what is happening! People gaze at pretty things without ever turning around to witness that most Beautiful and True thing that is on the Earth!
     Pray for God's favor to rest upon His people and that they display the grace given them.

Love the Great

"And what is it that you seek -

To find and maybe hold?"

But for a while this question rings

Until time is over - now too old.

Employ the youth within your bones!

Grasp each slippery thought:

Find the idea to fit the mold -

Seeking the Sheep by whom you're bought.

With each vital step come close,

Close to whisper, "What is the greatest?"

Breath no longer can we hold

But must know what's greatest!

Now known and wise it seems.

And Love is yet another way to Die.

Death be silent, don't move a hand.

Follow me! Hear my cry!

Walk away, farewell the Friends,

With nothing more but the End.

Love the Great to Sacrifice - 

Knowing never to Descend.

Anthem of the Poor

Oh! that we could remain that way,

Remain that way

Like the day

We bore our hardships!

We worried heavy, but spoke light,

Never giving in to fright:

Unable in us to ignite

That fiery chaos so common with their plight.

Truly we could live without that care

Of "money, esteem, and status" affair

Which always gropes to ensnare.

Yet not us.

No, not us will it grab and drag

Below the scum and rag

That clothes our backs without lag,

As one who invariably assists the Hag.

Sure, we struggle and cry.

Still I ask you why,

"Why lay down, give up, and die?"

Though others have, not I!

We could starve and be cold

Living in our house of mold,

At young age grow old.

And again I ask, "Why not be bold?"

We haven't much food but we avoid sin,

Humbly accepting as the Kingdom calls in,

Us with tears in eyes as we begin

To make our journey to our final Home.

Misplaced Time

From daybreak our minds rise and time begins.

We walk through it and watch it go by.

The Sun, the clouds, the trees, the Sky

All dancing for our watchful eye. 

Minutes pass and years have left 

Age old scenes still take our breath 

The waters continue to flow

On and on and on

While people come and go.