The things of life are built upon clay and sand. They shift and are lost in a moment. There is a sure foundation upon which I will stand, the stone rejected by the builders that has become the head of the corner. In a life of perfection and humility, Gods only son became the rock of faith. In him there is no wavering, he sits four square on solid ground. Through his sacrifice he gave redemption. By his agony we are given hope. I will stand upon what he has become, he is the foundation he is the corner stone.

People rage and rant at each other. Civility has disappeared and has been replaced with anger. We advance so rapidly that we have lost touch with each other. We used to sit and talk for hours, now we tweet and post. In short blurbs and emogies we try to communicate, but we really are not saying anything. Our barrier used to be our language, now it is not trying to understand each other at all. We isolate ourselves and cultivate followers instead of life long friends. Though our social circles may have been small, at least we knew we could rely on each other. Now we do not know who our neighbors are and our own family has become a strange to us. We fight with each other and fight with ourselves. The world is coming apart at the seams. Perhaps it would be better if all the technology went on a vacation and peace were given a chance again.

Monolithic trees standing silent as if frozen by time. Stone giants rising into the sky, reaching for something that I cannot see. Petrified remembrances of a time long past. A connection to what once was and may never be again. Animals run among the monuments and birds light upon their frozen limbs. The sun reflects off of their crystalline bark as I walk among them. So much is preserved and so much is forgotten, in the stone forest where petrified trees wait quietly for another day to pass.

My eyes are dry and my soul is empty. I weep until the ground is white with salt. Perhaps it would be better if I could drown in my own sorrow. Perhaps if I could remove my emotions, then I would be as the dead. Where ever I go I bring sorrow. I can even darken the Sun. So I will go and find a place of seclusion and there in the dark I will weep. Then the tears that I cry will harm no one but myself and perhaps if I am alone I will simply fade away.

Take the hair from that person and the voice from that one. Put them into my frame and take the smile from another one. A cut here a nip there and soon I am not what I was. I have redone the portrait that heaven painted in me, all for my own vanity.

In the windy city on the shores of lake Michigan, the streets are Crimson with innocent blood. The princes and potentates that laud themselves over the general populace pull the wealth out of the city and impose byzantine rule on the innocent and the deprived. While they sit in ivory towers and refuse to see the war that people wage on each other. Violence seems to be the only cure for poverty, as well intentioned efforts on the way to the hell that their leaders have created have failed. So in the end, who is guilty of the streets of such a great city being filled with innocent blood?

Equality must be legislated and religion should stay in church. Doing what feels good can't be wrong. Freedom of speech is all right, as long as no one can dissent. It is my body and my choice. I should be able to love whom or what I like, and consequences should not matter. People who make lots of money need to be better at sharing. If I don't like how you live, then you must accommodate me. Oh how wonderful living in a left of center world must be?

I see you walking towards me in the evening light. My face is covered in sweat from my long day of work. My arms ache and my back is stiff, but all of that is forgotten. I see a vision of love walking towards my heart. Your beauty is fairer than the flowers of a thousand hills. Your laughter is sweeter than the music of a morning song bird. I work and labor to know you and for just one moment of your time. I would give up one whole year of my mortal life. As you come close to kiss me, I know that somewhere above, Heaven is missing one of it's angles, because you are a vision of love.

The water falls as black as night. The sky blocks out the sun. The ground looks as if it is covered in liquid soot. The rain flows into the streams and lakes, turning them to the color of oil. Life is choked out of the world. We sit quietly and watch as we cannot take a drink. It is as if heavens tears mourn for our impending death. Down the rain falls, covering everything. The trees, the grass and our homes. The rain has become black because of our own legacy, our unwillingness to find a new way to live.

Sit quietly upon a rock and close your eyes. Hear the sound of the water flowing over stones and around curvy banks. Hear ducks quacking and splashing in the water. Listen to a frog croaking on a Lillie pad. Hear the distant call of a squirrel as it races from tree to tree along the muddy banks as deep cool water flows by. Become part of nature, if just for a little while. Listen to what the river says as the water speaks to you and the different creatures that live because of it tell you their stories, each in their own unique way.

Scribbling on loose paper, with other pieces crumpled up on the floor. Hours of frustration turned into days of inpatients. Writhing at the writing table burning through my ink. A quill and my pen are worn to a frazzle. Try as I might, the words escape me and all I am left with is dribble. So from the formless blobs, I seek inspiration but all that remains are blotted ink stains on the page. So I scribble on in a vain attempt at writing, hoping to find inspiration to create words of beauty again.

Into each others arms we are swept. Embracing as two hearts beat in unison. Holding each other as only lovers can. We feel the warmth of each others spirit as our souls unite. In the falling of twilight we embrace in a closeness that few can know. We become shadows in the fading of day. Let us dance into love in our own special way.

Oh let my soul be down cast and let the lord be set upon high. Let the mountains tremble at his coming. Let me be as the dust and he as the  mighty Eagle that takes flight as the wind. Let my soul contemplate the ways of my goings and comings and meditate on the instruction of the lords wisdom. Let my soul lament it's folly and sing in the morning with the new day the praises of the lord of host. Let me seek out the council of the lord in humility and with reverence beg his pardon, that I might find rest all of the days of my life.

I have walked across dusty fields and have broken hard and rocky ground. I have toiled under the burning sun and have never seen a harvest. I open up paths and plant a few seed here and there, then I move on to the next patch of ground. My hands are fixed to the plow and I cannot turn back. I have taken on the task and I must follow it to the end. Though in the present I will not know what comes behind me, a time will come when I will see the work I have done. When my last furrow is cut and I lay the yoke of the plow down, I will wipe away the dust of life's journey. I will then see the workers laboring in the fields behind me, reaping from what I have sewn when God says its harvest time.

Faint light shines through ice hanging from the trees. Like diamonds it sparkles and twinkles. Streaks of silver show through and glisten in the misty air. Like precious treasure that brings subtle beauty if only for a little while. The world sleeps as fires burn bright inside. The ice must come to cleanse the world of the old and renew the life for spring to come and give rebirth. Thus the ice is a treasure indeed.

The path of least resistance may seem like the easiest one to take. The dark road may cover up our sins for a while, but sooner or later we shall run out of path and end up in a pit. So is it not better to walk in the lighted path where you can see the traps and avoid falling into the pit?

Breathe deep and hold it fast. Sit in total silence for a moment. Listen to your heart beat then release and let your soul fill again. Life starts back and the heart settles from racing. In that single moment you ended and started again. Hold your breath, and just listen.

The spirit of God cannot be quenched, but the physical world could not withstand it. It is not as physical fire but yet it consumes. It purges sin and convicts the sinner of their unholy ways. To those who receive the forgiveness, it refines their soul like precious silver or gold, but to those who reject the ways of God, it destroys them with guilt and consumes them from with in until there is nothing left of who they were.

A mother leaves her children in a hot car and gets by with their death. I person tells someone God bless you and gets sent to jail. Someone paints a building with graffiti and the owner is called a hate monger for not loving art, when he tries to clean his building. A person speaks their mind in a peaceful protest and they are called a bigot, people riot and burn down a city block and they are called misunderstood. Why do wicked person thrive and those of good nature and righteous intent suffer?

I will make my own mistakes, I will walk the path that I choose. I will have regrets, joy and fears. I will learn as I go and learn from others on the way. I will fill the pages of the book of my life. Whether it will be a Sonnet or a Tragedy, who can say. I will only know when I reach the end. I will hope to give more than I take and to be a giver of kindness instead of hate. I will be disagreeable and shall have to live and let live. I will hold true to myself and what I believe is right. I will strive to stay the course, even when others fall away. I know that things will not always be easy, but they may yet be worth the struggle. I will be my own person writing my own story.

A man on crutches walks by a flag on the town square. His left leg is no longer there. He stops to salute the flag before he moves on, a small child looks in wonder at what he has done. Tugging on his mothers skirt he points and she says that he shouldn't stare, the man hears her words and quietly draws near. The woman looks up startled and seems embarrassed by what she has done. The man just smiles and tells the woman I too have a son. He is in school right now learning all kinds of things. He will learn to be polite and what freedom means. Just like your boy will do someday, so don't be embarrassed because you see I only have one leg. I gave it up for your freedoms, a price I was gladly willing to pay. So don't shed any tears and please don't be sad. I salute that old flag because I am dam proud. I was one of the chosen few that had a price to pay. So you and many others can live a free and peaceful life. God Bless Our Veterans.

The lines have been drawn between rich and poor and black and white. We are separated by ideologies and theologies. The power brokers want discord the war mongers want to prophet from our misery. When we are divided they get rich off of our suffering and tell us they will resolve our issues. The true division lies with in ourselves and only we can solve the problems. Help another build a home. Cook a meal for a neighbor. Get to know people whom you have never met then they will not be a stranger. Set up your own way of being kind, mend broken fences and cross over the diving line.

Though I walk and appear to be defenseless, I carry a breast plate and a shield. The things that protect me cannot be seen with mortal eyes, yet they are ever present. The righteousness of the lord and the shield of faith are upon me and through his spirit I am not afraid. The double edged sword of his word, will cut through the enemies lies and the truth will be made known. Though I walk before mighty armies, I am protected by the unseen armor that God has given me.

Shy and sheltered, kept in seclusion. Waiting on the moment for the sun to shine on her. Slowly nurtured and guided with the wisdom of loving hands. A special Orchid is pruned and watered until she is ready to blossom. With petals as gentle as fine silk, but with strength of the Willow tree. Able to bend and flex in the worst of storms. A daughter is a beautiful flower, and when that flower blooms, she is a marvelous thing to behold indeed.

I try to read what is in your eyes, they say that they are the window to the soul. I shiver when you stand next to me. I know that we are friends, but I would like it to be more. I am filled with hope, some of the signs are there, but I have to be sure. I will only give my heart away once, so I must get it right. I just need to know before I go crazy, are you in love with me?

I give you my love, all that I am. I offer you my heart and all that is has. I knit my soul to yours and let my life be bound to you. I give you my love that will ever be true.

There is a place where all sorrow goes. Where the tears of the despondent eventually flow. A river devoid of a single living thing. The river of tears that is cried each and every day. There is no joy in these waters, only salty remembrance. Things of loss and utter sadness can be found there. So if you ever immerse yourself in the waters that flow with each persons misery, just remember that you will not feel rejuvenated when you come out, but perhaps you will leave some of your sorrow behind, and the river of tears will take it far from you as it flows away with the tears you have cried.

Which people are real, can anyone really tell. Are they the ones we see on our TV's that feign drama and Botox injected smiles. Are real people the ones we see in the check out line. Waiting impatiently for an overworked cashier to ring up their over priced goods. Who are real people, where can we find them. Must we go to a far off land where war and poverty exist like a scene out of some horror show? Perhaps the answer is all of this and none of it. In a way these people are real at least to themselves and when they take off the mask behind which they hide, the real people that they become are revealed. Only those in their inner circles see the truth. For reality is what we perceive, and people are real in their existence, but they play a charade for others so we only see what they want us to believe is real.

All that come into the world must walk a path. At the beginning we are guided by others and circumstance, then we choose our own directions. In the end we all end in the same place, some sooner than others. In between, the things we do are what make the journey. In looking back, we can see a life of service or one of selfishness. We can see a legacy or a tragedy. We do not always get to choose every direction, some times choices are made for us by unforeseen obstacles, but we still have the ability to live our what is in our hearts despite the things that get in our way. So though we all must take life's journey, we still have a say in how we will live it.

The walls are melting around me! I am screaming inside! I lie in a pool of sweat and misery! I want to feel the cool night air. I climb out the window and scale the walls like a fly. I drag myself to the roof and look back over the edge. I wonder if I can fly? Oh to see the day break and to know that sanity hasn't left me!. If I make it until morning, I think I will be ok?

Ice hangs from the trees as worn paths are hidden behind a white sheet of snow. Everything glistens in the faint light that breaks through sliver and white clouds. An Owl can be heard calling in a distant grove of trees as it hides in the dark wooded cavern. The streams are frozen but you can hear them creak and groan. The North wind weakens and begins to subside blowing snow drifts in to blinding curtains of white. Ever so slowly the earth turns around and begins to shift. The hand of the cold miser that counts every snowflake begins to loosen its grip. A South wind comes in and the clouds begin to part. The towers of frozen water falls with Ice that hangs down like the Columns  of a Cathedral begin to drip. Trickles come together and form small streaks of water that cut grooves in the ice. Day by day the cold recedes, until foot prints that were frozen into the ground begin to turn into mush. The forest begins to lose it's sheen of silver and brown limbs spring up as the weighty snow falls off. They reach ever higher for the sun as they embrace it's warmth. As the last vestiges of white evaporate, small buds appear as sap rises. Winter falls away and spring finds it's place again.

If I could return to my home, the place of my childhood. What would the happy stolen moments be worth? Could I recapture the innocence lost, would I ever change history's course? I am unsure what would be the outcome on a grander scheme of things. I just know that returning to a simpler time, would be a true treasure to me.

Leaders stare at each other and pretend that they are kings. Armies march on parade as nations look on with pride. Poverty fills the streets as children play in the dirt. Threats are hurled as young men are sent to war. The rich consume the resources of the world like Locust devouring a wheat field. Citizens are fed a diet of lies as the puppet masters make their plans . posturing and preening while others bear the burden of their selfish ways. Such are the way of governments as they rattle the Sabre for no reason at all.

Reality lies fractured around me, the world has gone into a spiral of madness. No matter I look, the reflection looks back at me through the eyes of insanity. I walk barefoot on the shards of a thousand broken mirrors as I try to find the reflection that is my true self.

A circle of perfect gold, placed on a tender hand. I give you my love eternal and undying . In the solemnest of moments, I kneel before you and offer you my life. I will sacrifice for you all that I am, to hold you next to me. In good days or bad, I will hold you fast. I will be the anchor to moor you fast as our hearts are joined. Into the eyes of serenity I stare and I am held fast by your gaze, as I submit to your will and I give you my love.

If I were to chance upon God and he would sit for a while. I would buy him a drink, just like a regular guy. I hear he is partial to wine, or at least that's what the  bible says . He even changed the water into some, so the story goes. I would not care what it cost, for it would be a once in a life time chance. To sit down with the all mighty and have a chat over a few drinks. I am not sure what I would ask first, but then what could I  really say. I mean he knows what your thinking, so perhaps we would just drink. Then I would sit quietly and listen to what he had to say and perhaps I would see he is quiet a good fellow, if I could buy God a drink.

Killing is rampant in the streets. Protest are ending in violence. Starvation and poverty are rampant as a divide becomes greater by the day. Life is without answers and we refuse to follow the lessons of history. We will not look back in order to move forward. In all great civilizations, a defining point is reached. At the precipice of growth something must change. When the arch that holds up the foundations of the society finally gives under it's own weight. All that remains is to sift to the ruble and see what is left after the smoke clears. Governments and armies will disappear, while the remnants of those from the edges survive. Who knows what the breaking point will be, but if history is to be are teacher, it will not be long before it comes.

I look beyond the veil of the mortal plain. I look into the darkness where spirits reign. I see the tumultuous churning of emotions wreaking havoc on the world of the living. I step beyond myself and wander between worlds.  I see flashes of lightning but hear no sound. I feel the universe quake and see heavenly bodies shaken. The balances of cosmic harmony have been tipped to far in one direction. I begin to shiver as a cloud of chaos surrounds me. Then in a flash, a force of spiritual energy shoves me backwards into my own place. I awaken shaken to my core. The disharmony is simply with in my own self and I am at the center of a spiritual storm.

Crisp leaves crackle beneath my feet. I walk barefoot on the cool earth and look at the Birds flying under the Umbrella of the sky. I think I know where I am, but I am not truly sure. I think I will ask the next Unicorn I see. I was in the land of reality a few miles back, but I took a wrong turn I think. For now it doesn't matter, I just want to watch the birds and see if one will hit the arch of the sky and fall to the earth. All the while my cares have gone as I walk along with a ****** who seems to have taken a fancy to my wooden leg. Who knew the day could be so interesting, yes I see the boundaries. I see the separation line as at last I have found the border of insanity and I think I will step over just for a bit.

Slash the parchment, cut the scroll, open up the words and let them bleed from your pen. Place your feelings into letters that form words, dispense your passion onto paper. Write down what troubles your heart. Cut the lines into the grains of eternity with your steely pen. Cut the paper and let it be wounded for your art. Inflict your pain, sorrow and joy for others to read. Let your life be poetry, words given from your heart.

Spring comes and the sun shines down. Green leaves sprout on the trees. We finish our schooling and begin to live life only to find that the days are like a vapor. In a moment what once seemed like an eternity has become a twinkle of an eye. Time hasn't moved faster or slower, only our perception of it has changed.

Lay a blanket of emotions over me, and envelope me with the secrets of your heart and I will open up my soul and let you come in. Share with me the most intimate parts of your life and I will knit my heart to yours. Surround me with your affections and I will immerse you in mine. We shall walk a path of emotional strength and be joined for all time. In the deepest part of the night, beneath the starry skies above, embrace me and hold me tight, cover me with your love.

We are here for a moment in the grand scheme of things. Like flowers of the field, we blossom then we fade in the heat of the day. For one glorious moment we bloom and show a brief bit of beauty. It is the reality of life that we must accept that we are only a small part of a greater thing. That beyond one existence lies another and infinitely more. We are just visiting one plain until we pass on to another.

When we have fallen and can't seem to get back up. Perhaps kneeling is where we need to be. Despite our feelings that we have really messed up, there is still grace for you and me. God does not close his door to those who truly seek him. We are human and many mistakes we will make. We are the ones who deny him and refuse to accept his gifts, of forgiveness and redemption. So when we walk away from God, he weeps for our troubled soul. Though we might be miles away, his grace does not end.

When all of my pain is gone and I am finally at rest. I will not remember what I have been through. All that I will see is peace and beauty, for my trials and suffering will have passed. In an hour appointed, I shall take a trip, to a far better country. In lands of green pastures, clear waters and eternal day I will rest. Take no thought for me, for I will feel no more sorry. In the land beyond eternity, where I will cry no more.

The chains that I have forged are ones that you cannot see. I created them through selfishness and neglect. In pursuit of gain instead of love and mercy, now I sit trapped inside of a prison of my own making . My sentence has no commutation and I dare say no parole. I carry the memories of my mistakes etched into the table of my soul. I long to open the prison door and let myself go free, but alas when I drove you away, you took the key and your love from me.

When the stars fall from the heavens and the final curtain is drawn. The skies will part and roll back like a scroll. The veil between worlds will be torn into. All will see the truth that has been hiding in plain sight. To those for whom death holds fear, their dread will have come true, but for those who have accepted life, there will be much to do. In a moment and a twinkling of an eye, the whole universe will change. What to some is the end, will to others be the beginning.

Haunted spirits that are specters of another world. Moaning souls that are far from their lush green home. Cast out beyond the stars lamenting their voyage into the unknown. Sent by overlords to seek out another persons fortune, only to have their lives cut short by the dangers of an unforgiving planet. Jupiter rises in ascendancy and claims those who have tempted his wrath. Now it holds them prisoner in it's rings. They float along howling in silence as they see their reflections in the sparkling particles of ice and dust that encircle the name sake of the God of war. Peering beyond to the shining blue ball that they left for fortune, now they lament in eternity and loneliness hoping for some brave soul to come hence and follow on and perchance give them company and relief from their cold torment as they sit so far from their home.

No good work can pay the debt, no self sacrifice can ever be enough. All of the prayers will avail you nothing. No thing of great price can purchase the eternity. Only through humility and profession of the one begotten, will you receive the gift that is given freely. Only when you are covered by the blood, will you receive salvation from the one who died for us all.

Feelings aroused with passion, the heart is drawn towards a new fancy. The honeymoon is grand but is soon over. Then the marriage goes stale, the eye wanders and soon infidelity can occur. Thus is the way of love and politics. At first the idealist draws a crowd of true believers as two new lovers would meet. The followers are enamored with the passion of the new face, just as lovers are enamored with each other. The similarities are astounding, and the results often the same. Some weather the test of time and others fade away and are divorced from one another. If there is a break up, then one gets the lion's share of the wealth, while the other is left destitute. Thus love is like politics in so many similar ways.