Elders

We need the influence of the gray hairs
The ones who have tasted the choking air of our less taken road
The ones who survived the assault of foolishness and the curse of being scared
Who fell in love with wisdom when they felt like losing hope

What we need is not merely people older than
What we need is our elders
Wrinkles who understand youthful intelligence and
Know how to inspire us to make it better

We need the old folk
With strong heads on strong shoulders
The ones who command attention like Captains and Generals
The ones who can train young hopefuls into soldiers

The ones set in their stubborn ways
Because being stubborn is what kept them alive
The ones who know God and can call out the immatures and the fakes
And yet give loving guidance over grandma’s cookin at the same time

Grave, responsible, playful, hard nosed- we need our elders
That courageous, legendary, heroic breed of old
Too many young people running around with only idealism as their helper
Whatever happened to love healing the world and truth anchoring the soul?

We need to believe in our elders
And we need our elders to believe in us
Factions fracture, but oneness overcomes failures
And above all, we need to return to in God we trust

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A Slice

Humility.

Just the very mention of it makes one cringe.

Unbidden, it conjures up images of bowed heads and foully manipulated subservience. Afterall… in a world that barely honors masters- who wants to be a servant? But we can only claw our way to the forefront for so long before the bloody muck of our fellow denizens stops and gives us pause…

Humility.

Teeth grind. Eyes glare. Muscles clench. Everybody boasts about various aspects of strength, but there’s only silence when it comes to this. Nobody that wants to be good at not taking credit. Nobody wants to excel at excellence if the spotlight is exed out for extra merit.

We are wholly unwilling to be a part of a thing if it is bigger than our roll in it.

And its even worse when you know winning, it’s like goal tending, you’re shot blocking even before the throw is finished…

But being a humble visionary might require you to take a backseat. Whisper loudly, pray intimately, and seek Wisdom outside of your comfort zone and long reach- stretching beyond your limits…

Humility.

It’s spotlight shows the humbly proud.

Humility…

Humility…

Humility.

Public Enemy Number One

There is one mission.

There is one enemy.

The mystery of external affliction is unraveled right here- anything that bites and maims from the outside is under direct orders from something traitorous inside.  The idea of multiple enemies sprinkled throughout our lives like night twinkles along the celestial sky is an illusion supremely designed to keep us off balance.

There is only one enemy.

The will of the soul is indomitable, and the only thing to do with something unstoppable is to point it in the direction you want it to go.  It may not destroy itself, but it  will destroy its world, and when its senses come back to itself, its heart will have been poisoned by depressions that dwell beyond this world.

There is only one enemy.

There is only one mission.

In an era preoccupied with multi-tasking, the multiplying madness of business over efficacy runs rampant.  We have forsaken the waterfall for the spider-webbing streams running like veins down the mountainside and into the forest.  We have given up the whole of today for the fleet footed presence of “right now.”  We have failed to see that the goals of life and the universal purpose intertwining them aren’t supposed to culminate as one, but rather originate as one.

There is only one mission.

Love.

Love feeds the homeless and heals the sick.  Love is compelled to speak and search out what is true.  Love is a safe haven for one’s true identity to flourish.  Love repairs relationships, and safeguards the sanctity of life. Love pulls all the facets of this heartbeat wrapped existence into one, cohesive force.  History silently affirms- while Time passionately cries out- that Love… is invincible.

There is only one mission.

There is only one enemy.

And that enemy… is self… We get in our own way… Pervert purity… Hide behind false identity… Give demonic powers a suitable arena to play in…

Love. Conquers. Self.

There is only one enemy.

There is only one mission.

There is only one choice… so choose wisely.

One Thing

It’s slipping, slipping, away, away…
Fear of heart and fear of heartache…
It’s slipping, slipping, away, away…

Hatred of love, and love of hate…
It’s slipping, slipping, away, away…
Weak identity with strong false faces…

It’s slipping, slipping, away, away…
Fingers coming unclutched today…
It’s slipping, slipping, away, away…

I may not always win.
I may not always be wise.
But one thing I do know-
I’ve got all the motivating power I need because I’m alive.

And anything outside of that I’m letting it slip, slip, away, away…

NY: Resurrection

The beauty, of death is

It makes life, a blessing

No regrets, not wasted

When sunrise lights faces

Every day is New Year’s day when the way you live raises new faces out of the grave.  Unborn newborn babies of soul and mind slaughtered before their time… they need more than the tears that we cry- they need co-runners to usher them to the honest confessions at the finish line, where  mama’s can smile and cry out- “There goes my baby!”  No more blocks, shadows, or stained transparency… people are dying behind these veils!

The ugly truth only becomes beautiful when we greet it; it is in secret that some of the best have slipped away from us into hell.

Life and death are two sides of the same coin- neither one is an end unto itself, but rather they are indicators of which direction you’ll be goin when you pass on and live on.  Those who have passed on have passed on the ultimate power over to us.  Their lives were signed over into our ownership when they died, and now we have contracted duality- we leave our impact with two lives.

When people see us we will be slowly etching our way into their soul- carving a mark of destiny into their memory.  But when they leave us- the deep stirring, inwardly, in their inner being will be the honey from the Heaven seed of the soul we grieve mixing in with their hesitant touch of destiny… Vividly sweet before their very eyes.

The beauty, of death is

It makes life, a blessing

No regrets, not wasted

When sunrise lights faces

Today I am a warrior.  A soldier for everything in me I’ve overlooked.  An assassin for the Lord dropping Goliaths by the handful for everything the Lord gave me that the enemy overtook.  I gave darkness and Satan, selfishness and hatred my personal permission to advise alongside God when making my decisions, but now I’m ending this delusional spiritual derision.

Not perfection, but aggression.  This shield of faith to make the earth quake in boldness as I repulse the slew of arrow flames aimed at my heart.  Focusing on instinctively not dropping my guard.

Taking up my sword to defend myself, my people, and my home, and embracing the truth: This life- this earth- is not a Eutopia… it’s a battle zone.  The Have Beens warring against the Will Be’s.  Not between humans, but between us and the former heavenlies- Lucifer and his band of exiled rebels see.

Yet we fear not, because God is on our side.  Two angels for every one demon- the numbers cannot tell a lie.

I am a warrior- we are warriors.  And the Lord Jesus is our Resurrected General, therefore the destruction that the enemy can deal is minimal because the poetry is literal- we live resurrected in General……..

The beauty, of death is

It makes life, a blessing

No regrets, not wasted

When sunrise lights faces

Welcome to New life.

#identityart #HappyNewYear