It takes discipline to relax,
Program some more time into a busy schedule,
More Work time
Soccer game time
More Work time
Time with friends
Time with God.
Now what was this poem about?
Waves of peace rush over me.
Now I sit, drenched in love and consolation.
God’s desire to soak my soul in Love, like a sponge till it drips with His grace,
spills out, uncontrollably;
dousing the fire of my will;
replacing it with the peace only known,
of His Love.
Silently, I drown in Full, Active Participation.
Aware for an instant at least.
My mother nurtured me,
inside and outside the womb,
caring, feeding, clothing …
under a vast tent.
Manufactured from God’s tapestry of love.
“I will fix a place for my people Israel;” 2 Samuel
A shadow follows a created “persona”,
casting the silhouette which others see in me.
Movements, thoughts, behaviors all belie,
a Greek tragedy … called My Old Self.
Hiding in the house
Lived in for many years.
A ghostly vision to new owners,
Taking something for a long time, not mine to take.
Making myself known,
shocks the family there,
The fakeness of a life,
Lived as a true fake.
Borrowed time, insincere thoughts,
driven by self-pleasure and adrenaline alone.
True rejection of reality … and God.
Living for each moment rented, but unpaid, undeserved.
An ineffable energy sends waves of awareness towards me.
Nature, seems to know itself,
and sets a special place amongst it all.
Not just walking on grass, beholding trees, sensing sun on a body.
But at one with all.
Living, breathing, participating, a fulfilled consciousness of soul.
As designed; as created; as God intended.
Nature invites us in,
through an open door.
“Come and sit a while,
look at me, I am beauty itself …
beauty you can see, touch and feel.
I provide all you need, light, water, food, fuel.
Why do I need more?
Bullets leave without instructions,
mostly without intention.
Randomly passing harmlessly,
leaving only a whistle to indicate death was close.
The turmoil of war, unlike Hollywood,
is chaotic, perhaps good fortune determining outcomes;
enemies undistinguished from friends,
hate or love removed from a game seemingly played by Greek Gods of War.
In this decision making hell,
I rely entirely on instinct,
those who I think are my friends,