Fading Mist

Drops of water

Converged

Once upon a time

To make a cloud.

Closely

They interacted:

Laughing and Crying,

Giving and Taking,

Sharing and Bearing

As they passed together

Over the mountains and valleys of fleeting

Moments.

But the winds!

How they continuously

Batter the bonds of 

Friendship.

And the sun--

How it relentlessly

Melts the marks of 

Comradery.

So the sorrow begins

As the mist is forcefully

Divided.

Not knowing at what time

It may unite again.

Nevertheless,
Time marches on

With uncaring pace and unkind intentions

That slice stubbornly

And scream silently

Through the fading mist.

The Young Man and the Sea

Cerulean waves of depth, threatening 

The young man's hope.

What is the scope

Of the horizon?

It surprised him

How well he knew the sounds

Of wind and rain.

He turned around to bait his line

Casting it to the depth of possibility

Doubting his ability.

Yet knowing he must to it cling.

Gray waves of exhaustion, overwhelming

His clouded mind.

Faith and Doubt intertwined

With harsh reality. 

The winds of joviality--

How they had dissapated to doldrums

Of boisterous calm. 

He felt the weight tugging his line.

Lifting it from the sea, he sighed

For the hook held only Disappointment Applied.

When would he land opportunity? 

Silver moon of reflected light, gleaming

Over the man.

As he fights to stand

And flourish and live.

What the light's glimmer gives!

How it paired with the stars points

To True North!

He grasps at the bow, thinking.

Renewing his purpose, line he cast

For he'd harbor no bitter thoughts of the past

For lack of faith could destroy him.

But what could defeat him?

"A man can be destroyed but not defeated." ~Ernest Hemingway, The Old Man and the Sea

Forty-four Thousand

Based on Luke 8: 42b-48

Forty-four thousand in need of His touch

Surely the multitude would prove too much.

How could I reach Him through the crowd?

I couldn't call; they were much too loud.

I couldn't text Him so He'd sit with me. 

Yet I needed His presence to truly be free.

Forty-four thousand inside the Dome

A place God had come to dwell in as Home--

Could all of us feel Him? Could all of us know

His heart for us? Could He stop our blood flow?

We worshiped and called Him, we asked for His grace

Until suddenly we realized--His robe filled that place!

We all saw Him sitting on a throne--exalted, 

Willing to heal the oppressed and assaulted.

He was there in His power as His glory descended,

Willing to make the broken hearts mended.

He was there in His love; his robes invited

Every soul to come, be refreshed and ignited.

And in our healing He rejoiced, delighted.

Forty-four thousand who've felt His power

Who no longer have a reason to cower,

We'll go in peace as Jesus told us,

Knowing His everlasting arms infold us.

We cannot consume Him, no matter how many

Reach out, but He can consume us plenty.

We're going out boldly to proclaim His name,

To do something now for His glory and fame.

For His glory we'll be the voice outspoken

To free the bruised, the battered, the broken.

We don't have to worry about the mocking from "them."

He'll be our renewal; we cling to His hem.

We're not ashamed of the One Who saved us!

Indifference and apathy no more enslave us.

"Jesus" will be our proclamation

To our country and every foreign nation.

We are the Lord's generation!

No Funerals Here!

Based on Luke 7:11-17

The funeral took me through the desert.

Sorrow was all I had to eat.

Tears were the only drink provided

For all I could do was trudge and weep.

All surrounding me screamed "ashes."

I felt dead in my pain and fear.

But then I saw a man in the distance,

Beckoning me to come, draw near.

At first I thought I saw a mirage

Until I saw a city, too.

And above the city gates was written:

"Beauty--where the dead find life anew."

This was no mirage--but Jesus!

He touched my coffin and said, "Arise!"

And all that had felt dead within me

Suddenly became alive!

His mercy filled me with His peace,

Discouragement replaced by dancing.

All I could do was respond, abandoned

To being a part of His kingdom-advancing.

First quietly worshipful--then noisily grateful--

I praised the Healer of the nations.

No funerals here; God's come to help us!

Truly we are a chosen generation!