Once upon a time, beyond the moons and stars, direction was the center of what beginnings are. In an everlasting circle of water, sun, and being, a universe evolved truly worth seeing. Dazzling in her light, beyond her rivers and her oceans, Earth stood apart to bring evidence of our God’s emotions. Symphonies of dawn, of rain, of winter, of fall, on the palette of creation’s voice we can recognize them all. The patter of footsteps reverberates on the trails of all mankind, making our impressions of a God’s infinite design. Colors and chasms, of sanctity, of strife, illuminate each day that harvests into life. Golden letters of reason, of providence, of sorrows, grow from nothingness into all our tomorrows.

The scent of ancestry stretches across cobblestoned roads. Moss sticks like time to the worn passages coveting the feet of yesterday. Wooden pages torn from history guard the countryside with their blistered faces hinged to archways. Brick by brick, layer by layer, the aged buildings with rusted locks and looming spirits invite visitors to unlock the mysteries hidden behind them. War ravaged monuments with swollen earth foundations rise up and answer their doors for tourists to snap photographs within. Spirit upon spirit gathers and ascends behind the lush green hillside of man’s hours to travel through lit gardens that lead to the village cemetery. Angels and flowers rest at the head of these etched milestones.

America is a clock whose time has come. In the hour of our tomorrows, she has imagined herself as a bomb ticking. The tension of her springs has sprung and the little bird is calling cuckoo, cuckoo. In all her history, she has never known that her time is balanced by a clock master.

Crafted in Europe, her artistry was carved by the hands of those that understood time was the delicate balance between rulers and rules. In view of her beauty she set sail to announce a new time, a freedom that would forever change a planet.
In the hour of her need she announced liberty and gave man a reason to work hard for their dreams. Day in and day out, her delicate second hand delivered great moments to be an American. There was work to be done, and labor was united into one nation.

Hush, my heart, look no further than now. Follow my steps of memories to the hollow voice that rushes in to comfort me. Stirring birds settle my fears in a flutter of rapture across the sky. Mountain ranges cradle clouds and shadows pull away to let my light in. In the abyss of my moment is an earth that knows my longing. Mother holds me, holds me dear. Silence washes over me. Nothing could be closer than the truth that breathes in me. It is tangible, the feelings of God, of hope, and reconciliation for all I have done to offend creation. I fly; I fly above the restless worries of where I have been. I know where I am going, and who is going with me. In the hush, I rush to find what have always been there, the songs of my Creator. The melody of life moves in me, and I am free, I am free.

Simply put, we need each other. There is no measure of life greater than the love of another. Trials do not separate us, they connect us. Suffering is a human condition; to never suffer is to never love. Love is the willingness to make sacrifices for the good of another. Love does not separate, it unites.

Our interests should be void of carelessness. Carelessness is a way of life that yields an inability to understand the nature of others. To profess love and subject others to our own intentions is a flaw of human nature, and the reason God gave us His will. There should be a willingness to seek and employ God’s will in everything we serve.

Shadows move in flight above the conscience of every man; menacing black birds of darkness with deep ebony wing spans. Choking out a planet’s light, preying upon souls; these creatures of darkness billow from the belly of black holes. Burning embers of emptiness, above the horizon they fly, seeking the will of man to plunder and to die. Fumes of furious flight, they beat against wind’s fire, rising above the earth, consuming man’s desires. Ravenous appetites for compassion, for love, and for light, these tempters of darkness tingle in every man’s delight. Soaring in sweet sorrows, they peck out eyes of reason; they nest in man’s contempt and incinerate God’s seasons. Hardened hearts of stone, man’s will to play with fire, shadows spinning webs to catch and to conspire.

Each night before I go to bed, I sit down to pray
And think about the work God has done today
I think about those he's loved
And I think about those for whom he's cried.

He's shed tears for the unborn
And for the un-born again
He's cried for his body
And for it's victims
For the homeless, for the helpless
And for enemies
And yet his tears fall silently...

I step onto the battlefield. I remember my training-- all of it stored up in my mind, a second nature. But it doesn't keep me form being frightened. Although it provides a measure of peace, that peace finds me as I'm donning my armor. When I actually find myself in the middle of the war, I am completely overwhelmed.

So you fools
coming from that girl who patronized me in sixth grade
who is the woman under the lead
also coming in her name
first sit by me at the computer
and drop the hint
of her being justified and forgiven

And then another touches my private area with her prayers
as if to pray me down
when I wasn't even...

You are all fools and idiots who will never be saved

You are all worthless patronizers
who know nothing about God
nor His ways

You idiots don't even know-
you think you're my mother
or that you have authority over me?
or that you have any cleanness, purity, anything good?

You think you are backing up
like Noah's son should have?

You will never enter into the kingdom of God
you have never been with Him
are not with Him
and never will be

Brown burlap images rub against the fair face of humanity’s view. History has converged civilizations into civilizations, architecture into architecture, columns into columns, and hearts into hearts.

Golden tones of renaissance unfurl like sails on the mast of earth’s ship of destiny. The human mind’s compass is designed to move beyond the direction of hemispheres into the realms of stratospheres.

Spiritual flowers grow on fields of heaven’s dreams, moving like white poppies flowing in endless melodic streams.

Mind passages illuminate as magnificent wings of flaming doves soar through white gardens of timeless prayer. A covey of crimson doves sifts through the thoughts of ages to pluck a single flower of God’s fire.