I made a call to the man upstairs.
I heard a voice say, Please hold.
So I grabbed on as hard as I could
Really took hold with both hands.
Because I was not about to let that go.
I knew that there would be a penalty.
But I also knew what was handed to me
And I said I would rather risk a good run
Then watch them pass and lose it all.

The strive in life is forever a race
We line to hear the sound of barking guns
We in sprinting blocks, the sweat in face
Because we know we have to be number one

We feel that spark, arise to sprinter’s stance
The hands to box the air, to grab that inch.
We fall behind, and think we lost that chance.
And then we see the one in  front of us flinch

This chance  is close  and so illustrious
The finish line is coming up too fast to stop.
As we approach, a burst of legs beats us.
And we receive medals, but not the top.

To have the grace in loss is important
Because winning is great, but its better to be a sportsman.

We sing psalms of strength to our Savior.
The mighty Majesty, the one who moves mountains.
He spoke to seeds of strength in man and mustard, and said
If your face has faith, it frees the flesh of fear.
He set out on the sea, and said the Spirit’s saved.
Simon stepped out of the ship, and sunk screaming Christ!
But Christ came to call us chosen.
The redeemer reached to reign over the sea.
Each of us now endowed, enabled and emboldened
Because he was broken and bruised for us to be.

And a gentleman I shall stay.
Forever, tomorrow and today.
The utterance that comes out of my lips.
From the opening glance to the handshake grip,
It is a price but one that I can surely pay.
I just hope that I never falter or slip
Because then society would look on me with unforgiveness eyes.
That what they see as a moral failing is really more a surprise.
What my appreciation is to the fairer other, I must give to thee.
And show that concept is not dead but it must arise, that chivalry.

The breath of fear is twice touched.
Once by the winds of belligerence
Which speak out to those ravens of terror
Whose flight no weapons can hunt
Twice grasped by a shaken spirit
Which refuses to sleep as I  cannot exhale
Because that inhale is throughout the chest
And I cannot relax until it comes back to the heart.
Maybe the solution is not breath
But the waters
Because it is in the dampness that this breath is put where it belongs.
So I can arrive to the place I am supposed to be
Even if those waters are only in my eye.

This trait of happiness is never elusive
It is not peculiar to one person
Because it comes from above
Showered down on all creation alike
The homeless and the one with mansions
All have access
To the throne-room of precious smiles.
As happiness comes from above
We can give it here down below
But it must not stay below
Because then it would die
And then what would become of it?
There would be no one to mourn
Because it would forever abide in the places of the unknown.

But happiness also descends to creation
So now we are endowed on high to create
Mandated to give
Even when we do not see it
The bonds that tie us together
Are formed by this felt warmth which brings us peace
The work we think makes us joyous
Instead makes us feel empty
But the work we avoid as trivial
Is the truest portion that blocks sorrow
So let us rise
And say happiness is not so much someplace else
But it springs from us with open hands to open hearts.

Some would pick at the petal of the rose
And say he loves me, he loves me not
I suppose.
But feelings are so much more
Than uprooted flowers.
It is more than you and me
It is ours

That rose could be part of a bigger collection
A wedding bonquet
When we love into each other’s eyes
And say I love you forever and always
That rose can always be called
To be a boutonniere men pin to their suits
Standing as the best of men.

The rose can be laid down
As the flowers people give as we walk from the reception.
As husband and wife.
That rose can be put up
As decorations that celebrate everlasting to forever in a halled room.
Finally that rose can be taken off
After all of the festivities of the day
When garments are laid aside
Still smelling of perfume made from dug-up roses.