The Imperfect

With the Almost Perfect

Making a Perfect All

Dancing Leaves

The wind plays hide and seek with the trees
Running, playing is the breeze
Blowing by
Good bye
But hello again whispers the leaves
You have found me and now please

Just try
To stay awhile
While we dance together
In the midst of this windy weather
Whether it's you or I that leads
I don't know
But I'm caught up in this moment
Simply swaying, swirling shouldn't
We stay now
Please stay now

But the wind is gone again into the air
Only stillness is left there
All night
Good night
Then a curtain is torn of cloud
Sun is breaking to the ground
With light
And hope takes flight
While colors fly together
As the mist of the morning gathers
Gathering you and I from sleep
Just to see
To be caught up in this moment
With hope bursting, breaking, exploding
Through the sky
Oh the sky
Surrounds me

It Is Finished

How exactly does one conquer fear? Is it necessary to stare your enemy in the face and remain standing once he has backed away? Do you have to overcome him physically, emotionally, or mentally? All three? Do you have to face it again and again until the fear no longer lingers? Is it required to never show even the slightest hint of fear? Do you have to convince yourself of the rare chance of danger and the even lesser possibility of death? Does reason even have a place amongst fear?

Or is it the way of a conqueror to simply be in the presence of your deepest fear, knowing full well of every dangerous or hurtful possibility? Stand knowing that you will face the same foe again and remain trembling, but even amidst the shaky knees and quivering hands to remain. Not necessarily seeing yourself standing over the dead body of the dreaded enemy, but rather, leaning back against the arms of someone you know has already overcome the enemy for you.

Nineteen Million Things

I will not lose wonder
I choose to be in awe
Searching upward and under
Finding beauty in every flaw
In springtime I love cluttery
Flower beds growing free
And butterflies winding, fluttering
Nineteen million directions before me
And I sit there and wonder
Why I wasn't made with wings
I would fly upward and under
And see nineteen million things
But I'm stuck on the ground
Which is the best place to be
In Autumn I look around
I am surrounded by trees
Who happen to be scattering
Their summer set of clothes
The green is no longer flattering
Instead it's all reds and golds
That in itself is a wonder
Nineteen million shades of fall
I will keep looking upwards and under
And maybe someday see them all

Creator to His Creations

I  bring peace. I create beauty. I cherish harmony. I desire love from my creation. I demand reverance through my wonders. I am wisdom, and freely give of myself. My decrees are just. I am the perfect judge. Your imagination has few boundaries, now imagine mine. I designed your brain. Just try to fathom the depths of my intellect. No person in history has been unaffected by me. People discuss and argue over my influence, but I was and am and will be there. I am consistence. I am faithfulness.

Take my perspective, just for a moment. My creation bickering amongst itself, deciding whether or not they will allow me to be part of "their" government, money, future. Oh funny little things, and ironic! Humans; thinking yourselves to be very wise and open minded, but choosing to take the most wise and loving Creator out of everything that I can possibly be removed from. Making the only just and true God a myth, a tradition. Having a form of morality and godliness, but denying My power. Thankfully though, I also have a sense of humor. How else could I love, cherish, and find pleasure from such silly little creations?