the body signals the child to grow, but he wanders in a daze, refusing to learn...the heart is pure and full of love, but he has not seen another way...i think that he can...but will he? will i?
Friday, May 27, 2005
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
write down the miracles my mother said
ignore the anxiety in the background during the good weeks, and the faith may perpetuate the good months...is it based on needs and wants fulfilled, or are the needs and wants fulfilled as the faith endures? the latter is the stairwell, the elevator to the next plane, the next test of altitude-endurance...the air is thin they whine, the clouds at this height suffocate my eyes, i am going to lie down in the valley below on those soft pillows...but upon waking, the complacent me knows to sprint in noisy desperation to the fastest ride into completion town...to stare once more at the whites of lusty eyes and to be stared at as an equal or as a higher, pleading to the core that i never face inferiority for a moment, and begging God to let me remain in this now confusing state of still standing still, hoping that i am on a moving walkway, ever-willing to stand on the right as the impatient slaves storm past on the left, and despising them for thinking that they need to be somewhere more quickly...and in these moments of chaos, there is meph, perched under the bridge, trying to tie my shoes together so that i will fall on my chin and bite my tongue off so that i may never obey God's leading to speak in love...would i go to the trouble to learn sign language or prefer to complain? the red-horned serpent would prefer that i go lie down on the lower plane and never arise and walk...but perhaps i truly have seen a miracle, and perhaps i can share the potent dreams that are realized when i wake up and approach the day, as the dream had already happened, and was a memory rather than an illusion...but why mention the darkness as if it is necessary to show the luminescence of the lamp? it is simply enough to know that the sun shines and warms without reminding myself that it is so different from the night.
Sunday, May 08, 2005
i remembered that my lungs are organic
inspire is to breathe life, and with each breath the next day, i imagine my bleeding lungs. but i think they might rejuvenate if i drink water. there are far too many wounds that are self-inflicted for lack of discipline, and a new era can be had if i simply listen to the calling. that voice is audible as any thought or vision, and when i resist it for fear of being driven by guilt, i then feel that i have grieved the voice that calls me to care, to love, to give. the narcissistic film composed in my head does not shrink in light of the fact that others around me are creating their own dramatic screenplays as they drive and dream. but somewhere within, in one of the rooms, a quest to be the best, to be the center, sucks the peaceflow into a sinkhole, and for the duration of my expectation that anything to the contrary should happen automatically, on autopilot, nothing happens. it is a conscious thought, occasionally a battle, to say, "i will care, i will listen, i will get outside of myself and actually come alongside one of these people i love, or perhaps someone i don't even know, and i am going to be a vessel through which miracles may freely flow from the hand of God."
Sunday, April 03, 2005
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
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