Internal Death

Wilt thou watch my soul diminish? Wilt thou not reach out?
I long for thee to be near, I long for thee to understand, I long for life.
Yea, Death is the master of my prison. I am bound for the time I am here.
I shall never be free, yet I shall endure.

DARKANGEL

violet. velvet. darkness. utter-black. no ground to stand. no ceiling to contain. not a wall. not a fence. no perimeter. no diameter. nothing bound, yet nothing free. eternal abyss stretching infinitely out into the black, blacker, blackest, and blacker still. in all directions... forever, and farther still... close, so close. too close. suffocating, yet never drowning. an epicenter, but no symmetry. a scale without balance, yet perfectly perpendicular. a void. filled and emptied. emptied and filled. vain. like a breath - a hard. heavy. breath. the kind you'd rather not take, but cannot do without. voluminous waves of nothing surge in to fill. coagulate. solidify. dissipate. nullify and surge back out.

and here you are. DARKANGEL. epicenter of vanity. peace perfected by war. life completed in death. clouds. heaving. rising. falling. surging. white. black. violet. dark. twisting. together. apart. deafening silence. quiet roar. DARKANGEL. there you are. your hair, a silver vision. whirls in the emptiness and across a universe of space. yet close, ever close to you. your body, an ever changing veil of darkness. sometimes smooth. as it flows. sometimes rough. sometimes transparent. sometimes opaque. your brow, a contrast to the void. alabaster and proud. framed in swirling silver locks. soft with cold compassion. hard with hot hate. feeling is not in you. yet your motion betrays emotion.

your eyes. DARKANGEL. the only light in this void. a cold, very cold, white light. blank and cold. blank and cold. and somehow dark., darker. black even. scanning the abyss with freezing precision. DARKANGEL. you are searching. for that one, minute particle of nothing that is not suspecting you. that one minuscule fragment of space that subconsciously knows you're looking for it. him. himself. and when you find it. him. your head will flash across time with a thunderclap. and then your wings. you spread them wide. black and white with fluorescent blue rippling across feathers of death and down. black fire erupts on the wingspan as ashen-white smoke billows behind and dissolves into the blackness. your white, cold eyes fix and lock upon the particle. blank and cold. blank and cold. the particle floats and does whatever it is that particles of nothing do. but the ANGEL is coming. YOU are coming.

Wasted Grace (This is a Lie)

Crawl home you beaten thing, I'll see you no more
I've lost my desire for you and your vulgar tirades
Your needs are blasphemy, they defile me
If I was what you claim to be, I'd be a waste of grace

Separate right from wrong
Distinguish how far I've gone
Tell the Father about my fears
Take my hands from my face
He'll wipe away my tears
Keep me safe from lies of waste

You're part of me, my birthright and unholy stain
So I'll be fighting you, you have no more claim on me
For you know I died to you long ago
I won't let you lie to me, convince me I'm wasted grace

You're lying, you're lying to me
God doesn't waste His grace
I'm not a waste
I'm safe from your fire
I don't believe you
Liar, liar, liar

Separate right from wrong
Distinguish how far I've gone
Tell the Father about my fears
Take my hands from my face
He'll wipe away my tears
Keep me safe from lies of waste

Song of Eternity

I look behind me-

I see those who’ve gone before.

You led each one-

You opened wide Your door.

I look ahead-

My path obscured with sin and fear.

“O, Lord, I need You by me!

I need You to be near!”

As I struggle on this path,

Falling in the fear of man,

Your promise is to not forsake-

“O, Child, take My hand.”

Blindly, I grope

For Your outstretched hand,

Longing for freedom

From this slavery to man!

Suddenly, my eyes behold

Your blessed Son

As at His bloody cross

I stand undone.

Weeping, I fall

Before Your blessed Son

His complete sacrifice

My freedom has now won.

My path is now

Inflamed with light-

My future by Your Son’s Love

Now shines so bright!

As Your mercy guides me

Through Your holy gate,

Justified, I firmly stand-

Death no longer is my fate!

In awe I stand

Before Your throne-

By Your grace set free-

A Child of You alone!

Eternity with You is now

My Blessed End!

“O Lord, You are my Love,

My Father, My Friend!”

Holy, Holy, Holy!

Breaks forth with joyous sound

As Eternity’s Song

To You I resound.

“My Lord, I love You!”

I lay all at Your feet

As Eternity’s Song

I’ll forever repeat!

Adversity's Bloom

It is rough and rutty, this rod I carry. It is lifeless and cold. Its splinters snag like spurs as I grasp it in my hand, yet it cannot be released. My hands, though once smooth and supple, have now been calloused and warped by the thorns of this bitter stake, called Adversity.

I cannot see the rugged terrain beneath my feet, and so I clamber over hollows and hurdles, scattered along the way, holding the rod as far from my body as my outstretched arms can bear. Step by step, I continue, my rod's weight increasing with every step taken.

For a while, out of stubborn disdain, I continue trying to avoid the hurt caused by Adversity's spiteful shards. I scoff at the sight of it, which serves only as a reminder of the hindrance it presents.

I have been told, however, that it is necessary, that I cannot complete the task ahead without it. That soon, I will change this gore for glory. I have been assured that I may trust the One from Whose Hand it came. The ache, the throb, the sting... each is working together for a good that I cannot yet see.

Increasingly, I become weary of carrying on. In hopeless contempt, I hang my head as with one step, I am brought nearly to my knees in despair. My despondent heart is giving out, yet, almost instinctively, I thrust the rod's foot to the ground, bearing down on it with all of my weight.

When brought close and embraced, the rod I had struggled to bear now offers support as I rise once more to my worn feet. Although, at once, I had seen it only as an instrument of pain, Adversity now brings peace.

Suddenly, a new appreciation overwhelms me. I see this rod as an opportunity for triumph rather than torture. I step forward, and although the weight of the rod is still felt, it no longer poses a limitation. With every twinge of pain, a new strength is found, giving hope and courage for the step that follows.

In wonder, I examine the rod beneath me, it's twisted form reminding me of my wrenched heart. My eyes pool with tears as I discover, carefully tucked away within the notches and knots of my rod, a single, solitary bud.

The Day Chivalry Died

A high pitched moan,

A low pitched groan,

The wardrobe door ajar.

Under dim light,

An ancient knight,

The wrinkled warrior.

He peers inside,

And sighs with pride,

To see his armor suit.

He reaches in,

To touch the tin,

The steel and silver truth.

He traces down,

The plume, the crown,

The helm, the plate, the belt.

Once gleaming bright,

Now cased in night,

Tarnish and rust he felt.

A pang of pain,

And strident strain,

As he unsheathes the sword.

The sword so stout,

He wields about,

And utters not a word.

The olden days,

Like fading haze,

Return to him in waves.

Dismaying dames,

And noble knaves,

And dragons deep in caves.

The sword, the shield,

The battlefield,

The banners they would fly.

When weapons wield,

The foes would yield,

Neath blades once brandished high.

But that was then,

When men were men,

And blood flowed through the reins.

And this is now,

Sadly somehow,

The men are full of shames.

He stops and stares,

For no one cares,

For what once gave him pride.

He turns away,

And mourns the day,

The day chivalry died.

Bulletproof Smile

With a gentle scratch we watch,

Watch as the thick, black ink

Seeps, saturates, stains,

Stains a parchment page.

The stain she can't erase,

We watch it run in place.

The ebony liquid pools and sinks.

The parchment drinks

The pen gracing face,

Every word, every line,

Every couplet, every rhyme.

listen to the prophecy

She: the author. I: the sage.

We see her every day,

A glorious bloom transfixed

Upon her youthful visage.

We perceive a genuine joy.

We perceive a perfect peace.

And every words she speaks,

And every move she makes,

Would only convey a thorough sense

of satisfaction, fulfillment, and purpose.

That smile,

That bulletproof smile,

Would anyone question its authenticity?

Those eyes,

Those delightful orbs brimming with joy,

Would anyone imagine them brimming with tears?

And this is the question,

Does imperfection dare critique perfection?

For in those hallowed moments of the reserved,

When one's mind is quiet,

And fear finds himself unlearned,

I've seen a cocoon woven in bitter tears.

Each fibrous strand forged in the furnace of doubt.

I've seen a colossal tower built in fears.

Brick by brick, and black within,

Thick, so thick, and thorns without.

Perhaps it's just a void within.

Perhaps it's just a question begging for clarity.

Or maybe, just maybe, it's the nebulous enigma of a beautiful mind.

Perhaps what I see is an aesthetic perception that has yet to come to term.

Still in its infancy, it knows what it is,

But fears to be exposed to an otherwise unsuspecting world.

So she writes,

The pen to the parchment,

Etching in shallow scratches.

So she writes,

The pen to the page,

Wielding windless words.

They beg to be spoken.

They yearn to be heard.

But they would be satisfied,

If only to be read.

So with a gentle scratch I watch,

Watch as the thick, black ink

Seeps, saturates, stains,

Stains a parchment page.

The stain she can't erase,

I watch it run in place.

The ebony liquid pools and sinks,

The parchment drinks,

The pen gracing face,

Every word, every line,

Every couplet, every rhyme.

I believe in that smile,

That bulletproof smile.

It's authenticity is without question

In my mind.

However, I hear the strike of a match.

I smell the sulfurous sensation,

As spark begets spark begets flame begets fire.

Oh, the smile is real,

But with a dreadful start I watch,

Watch as the hot, blue flames

Kiss, caress, consume,

Consume a parchment page.

The page she can't replace,

I watch it burn like lace.

The consuming fire whips and whirls,

The parchment curls,

Where the pen once had graced,

Every word, every line,

Every couplet, every rhyme.

Oh, the smile is real,

But in the gleam of the firelight

I see those eyes.

But is it joy with which the brim?

I perceive a contrast to that smile,

That bulletproof smile.

Not a contradiction, mind you,

But rather a complimentary antithesis.

And as those delightful orbs of aesthetic perception

Watch the words wither and grey,

She's already thought of penning the next one,

And burning the beauty forever away.

Spider in the Window

Spider in the window
Moss upon the stone
Fading leaves upon the ground
From autumns long ago.

Spider in the window
Weaving all alone
Some strange riddle we've not found
With patience sure and slow.

In the wooded shadows
Moss is on the stone
That walls the garden all around
So all has time to grow.

In the warm summer glow
There lying all alone
Fading leaves upon the ground
From autumns long ago.

Spider in the window
Spinning all alone
Soon your web will be found
And both of you will go.

In the wooded shadows
Moss upon the stone
Will be scraped onto the ground
'Cause the garden is for show.

All the dead leaves must go
Away they must be thrown.
Fading leaves upon the ground
That withered long ago.

The Night my Mother Left

The night my mother left, it snowed, big beautiful flakes that drifted down from heaven in soft patterns. They fell almost as if they were trying to negate the last words she spoke to me as she stormed out the door.

“Tell your sister I love her, I love her very much, I love her dearly.”

She said those words loudly and clearly. Her voice rang throughout my house. The look in her eyes, clearly vindictive, emphasized the words that she had spoken. The look emphasized the words that were not spoken, the words that left me with an empty gap in my heart.

She loved me too, right? I was sure she did. Deep down somewhere inside her I was sure she still felt an iota of the love she once held. Mothers always did that, right?

I watched her climb into her car and back out of the garage faster than usual. I watched as she drove off into the night; the snow swirling behind her. Christmas bells seemed to tinkle in the wake of her departing. I could almost hear them and as I stood there, shocked and dismayed. I could almost hear the Baby Jesus crying in his manger, the same way my heart was crying now.

To Wonder and Wander

Wonder of beauty and wonder of life!

Oh that this sparkle held no strife!

Some sing of spring and some of fall,

Others think but don’t care at all.

Hope of a future and the future of a dream;

If its result is none but to beset and scheme,

Where is the purpose that had driven it so?

Why isn’t your heart willing to let go?

Perhaps, God seems distantly here or there,

And you think that your pain is too hard to bear.

One moment you relish in the sun’s golden light;

You savor its warmth and protection from night.

But when your world becomes a fragile thing,

You cease then to trust and have no voice to sing.

The music that once flowed freely from your heart,

Has lost all its worth, its beauty and art.

Wonder of God and wonder of heaven!

Have we ever known a love so deeply given?

Here within our grasp a truth ever constant,

Are we such fools to ignore it one instant?

Our agony is of our own compromise.

Do we then wonder “Why this demise?”

Our shame is of our own wistful desire.

Can we ask of God “Why now this fire?”

Wonder of mercy and wonder of grace!

That from me He would not turn his face!

God ever worthy and through Him alone,

Can now my blindness His forgiveness atone!

Never before could I ever be free;

Until Jesus set His perfect eyes on me.

Now in me understanding is clear,

With God on my side what is there to fear?

The Throne Room of Drama

Drama… something I never considered myself to be a “queen” of, nor yet even a great lover of… Yet, now, I find myself intrigued, inexplicably drawn to that beautiful feeling of becoming someone else- of allowing myself to become lost in the character and person of one through whom I can express the deepest emotions of the heart. I never envisioned that I would be a part of this peculiar entourage of people, but now that I have entered this realm, my views seem to be transforming… I never thought I would ever admit I am becoming a lover of the court of drama, but, my heart now palpitates with a certain energy at the thought of entering the throne room of drama, presenting myself to the King with all the energy and nervousness of a lowly servant. Before I even enter the throne room, my heart and mind plead for the work of the King’s influence to be seen through my presentation. I have labored; I have meditated on the life of the one whom I am portraying; I have been instructed and taught; and now that I have the opportunity to present myself before the court and the King, I desire nothing more than the King’s approval. He alone is the One Whose approval matters. He has created this beautiful throne room for His glory, and as I enter it, humbly, I am amazed that He would choose to give me this opportunity. Butterflies tremble within my being, my mind overwhelmed with the enormity of this entire production before the King. As I step out into the room, the courtiers, noblemen, and servants seem to fade into a mass of blurred humanity. Instead, I lose myself in the glory of these moments before the King. I expend my energy- allowing every fiber of my being to be caught up in this opportunity before Him. The moments are gone too soon, and I step back, albeit reluctantly, from the throne room, my mind whirling with the exhilaration I still feel. I pace back and forth, waiting for my fellow dramatists to complete the production over which we have labored for so long. Finally, the ending… I re-enter the throne room, along with my fellow servants- for that is truly what we are before the King… I gaze out at the sea of people, their faces are smiling, their expressions are joyous… But, what about the King? I cannot see Him, yet His presence is felt. The people of the court exclaim over the professionalism of our performance, the liveliness of the presentation, the beauty of our appearance… in spite of the praise though, I feel nothing but gratitude. The presence I still feel of the King washes over me as I realize He was here. He is here. Nothing can shake the beauty of this feeling. He has been pleased to give us this opportunity, stretching us, molding us, and now that it is over, I feel that He has grown us- me in particular. My heart is saddened at the thought that our production is finished, never again to be performed in like manner; yet, the sadness is repelled by the thought that the King is presenting me with another opportunity to share, again, in this venue of drama- to be allowed, again, to enter His throne room and to present, again, to the court His glory. The opportunity blooms before me… will I grasp it, allowing myself to once again, be lost in the beauty of the King’s gift of drama?

Embracing the End of My Old Self

I woke in the morning with your head on my chest,
Everything was happy, the beauty and the blest.
The rays on the panes flooded the room through thick dust.
I traced your face with my fingers in thoughtless trust,
And then down your perfect profile in selfish lust.
I stopped in horror at the base of your tight palms -
-Gripping a blade-
-Your choice was made-
-Now you’ve decided to silence the calms-

Your eyes, once closed in peaceful sleep, I see now were merely closed to keep me unsuspecting as I pulled you closer into a warm embrace.

I never saw the knife.
I never saw your eyes.
Now fearing for my life,
I turn from all your lies.

What have I left undone to let you so close?
Once upon a time, I would have cut the nape,
Of all that would have held me back,
But this time my defenses were down,
And you came back to me, yes, you came back to me.
Why couldn’t I see that you were aiming for my soul?
Just like every other time.

…But I trusted you, yes I trusted you…
…But I hated you, yes I hated you…
…But I loved you, yes I loved you…

“Never again, you lied.” I cried.
“But here you are once more,
Sleeping at my side.
I don’t think that I can heal from the wound this time.
I have had enough.
You will pay for your crimes.

I pushed you aside as you slashed for my heart.
I ran from the bedroom and down to the cellar.
In every mirror I saw your face.
In every reflection, your shame and disgrace.
I picked up a chair and destroyed my reflection.
I grasped a long shard of glass and came back after you.
You were out in the garden wilting the roses.
You turned to face me with a knife in your hand.
You tried to conceal it behind your back.
But I knew - This Time, I knew.

You came so close to me,
With innocence in your beautiful eyes.
You offered to try again,
And I said no words as I came even closer.
You placed your free hand on my shoulder,
And put your lips to mine
For a second, just a second, I thought,
“Maybe this time?”
But no. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
Never again. Never again.

The look on your face turned from pleasure to shock.
You staggered back from me and gave me a hurt look.
Your hair fell loose over your eyes, whose sparkle was slowly fading.

I caught you in my arms,
And gently brought your beautiful body,
Down to the bed of the garden.
You looked deep into my eyes,
As the life blood ebbed from your veins.
I thought to pull you close…
…For one last time…
…And bring your lips to mine…
But I merely said,
“Dearest, know this,
I loved you.
I tried.”

Jack of Spades

One brisk November evening a security guard, Alvin, clocked in for the hundredth time at the hospital. The shift started at 11 o'clock, and he was glad to get out of the cold night air and into the building. Before leaving for work that night, he had watched the evening news cast...now he wished he hadn't. The top story that night had been about a serial killer who had left the whole city on edge...and three doctors in the morgue. All three murders had occurred in the past three days, and all of them were at different medical facilities around the city. The hospital that Alvin worked at was attached to a professional building that also housed doctor's offices, labs, and a large pharmacy. The news story that night had disturbed Alvin, but more than that was the video from the security cameras at all three locations. "The images you are about to see may be disturbing to some viewers. Young children should leave the room." "Young children," Alvin though, "never mind young children!" Watching the film, one could see the doctors working late at their desks. In the shadows something would stealthily sneak up behind them. The screen went black because it was too graphic to show on national television, but one's imagination could fill in what happened next. The screen came back on to show the close-up of a masked face, showing only his hard, black eyes and maniacal smile. In the background the slumped over figure of the doctor was barely visible, and obviously dead. Then the masked man held something up to the camera...a Jack of Spades. He reached up and taped it on the lens. "Alvin!" He jumped as his supervisor shouted his name. "Ah...yeah?" "Ha ha ha! What's the matter...a little jumpy tonight?" His boss was a good natured man with a jolly laugh and even jollier stomach. "Yeah...it's just...something I saw..." Alvin strapped the can of mace to his belt. "Sorry to get you started right into your shift like this, but I saw some weird shadows in the pharmacy just now. I think the night janitor may have left the door unlocked." "Yeah?" said Alvin, recalling the shadows in the security video. "I'll go check it out."

Alvin tested his radio, "10-97." "10-2" came the response. His Mag-lite hung loosely at his side and he kept the pouch that held his mace unbuttoned. His finger reached out as he touched the button for the elevator. "Why does it always take so long?" he thought to himself as he waited for it to rise. The door opened and he jumped, reaching for his flashlight. "Sorry to frighten you," smiled the janitor, "I just finished cleaning the pharmacy...weird place at night, that. Always a sound or a movement in the shadows!" he laughed like a senile old man that had no worries. "Yeah, tell me about it," muttered Alvin. A light sweat began on his forehead. "Man, its warm in here tonight," he thought to himself. He stepped into the elevator and pressed 'G'. Slowly, it made its way from the 8th floor to the 7th, then to the 6th, and then the 5th. Passing the 5th floor the elevator gave a slight shutter and the lights flickered. "900, come in." Nothing. "900, do you copy?" There was a hint of panic, an edge to Alvin's voice as he spoke. Still, nothing. The 4th floor went by. "Oh well, I'm sure its fine. Just a power surge. The lines from the elevator are interfering with the radio signal, that's all." As floors 3 and 2 went by Alvin became more and more frantic, imagining the black eyes of the murderer staring back at him when the doors opened. Finally he was at the ground level. The doors crept cautiously open and Alvin shone his light into the darkness. With every pass of his light, shadows climbed up the walls and flew across the ceiling. "It's all in my mind; it’s all in my mind!" Alvin reassured himself. A noise in the back storage room made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He went into the room and methodically checked every aisle. "No one in here," he remarked out loud to himself. He saw nothing in the back office, so he went into the adjacent janitorial closet. As soon as he was inside, the door slammed shut. He twirled around just in time to see a figure pass in front of the little glass cutout in the door. "Who's out there?! Who's out there?!" Now he was in full panic mode. His stomach rose in his throat and squeezed out his breath. Adrenaline pumped and blood rushed to his head. He tried the handle. It was locked. He grabbed the key ring from his side and his fingers stumbled through each key. First floor key, second floor, pharmacy, closet. His hand shook as he guided the key in the dark towards the handle. The keys slipped from his grasp and hit the floor with a clang. He kicked the door and it gave out. Running in the dark through the office, his foot caught the edge of a filing cabinet and he staggered to one knee, ripping his pants. He kept on running as blood trickled down his leg--but that was the last thing on his mind. His eyes were adjusting to the darkness now, so he was able to navigate the aisles at full speed. The only thing between him and the elevator door was a display of mouthwash. He knocked it over, and mouthwash splashed all over the floor. He stepped on one of the bottles and his foot slipped out from under him. His chin hit the floor with a thud, and blood gushed, mixing with the minty liquid that had already formed a puddle. He got up and threw himself at the elevator button, breaking his finger as he did it. “Garrrrgh!” He screamed in pain and grasped his hand. The doors opened. “Hello, my name is Jack.”

Alvin woke up in a hospital room two hours later. The blood had stopped gushing from his chin, and he felt a bandage on his forehead, evidently covering a gash that he suffered when he fainted. There was one nurse in the room busily setting out bandages and arranging bottles of pain meds. The doctor stood, his back to the bed, getting ready a hypodermic needle. Alvin flashed back to before he fainted. The doors opened and there stood a man dressed in all black. He had on a ski mask that covered all of his features…all except his eyes and mouth. That was all that Alvin needed to recognize him, however. The masked man’s beady black eyes pierced his own and sent shivers up and down his spine. His smile, so purposeful, so evil, gave him the distinct urge to vomit. Then, he spoke. “Hello, my name is Jack.” “Hello, my name is Jack, Hello, my name is Jack, Hello, my name is Jack!” Alvin screamed, getting progressively louder. He repeated it over and over as he grasped his face, ripping at his bandage and hair, remembering the sheer terror that coursed through his body and caused him to faint. The nurse ran over to his bed and two more came in from the hallway. They grabbed his arms and legs and strapped them to the bed, telling him that it would be ok. The doctor turned his head to acknowledge the commotion, but then went back to his work. Once he had calmed down, the nurses left the room, promising to come back in a few hours. The doctor slowly turned and made his way over to Alvin’s bed. His amiable smile and deep eyes looked slightly familiar. He held up the needle, “Hello, my name is Dr. Jack Spade.”

Lost in the Limelight

A hush falls across an excited crowd as anticipation hangs like a thick vapor in the theatre air. The house lights go down as the director takes his seat near the front. The actor takes his position; and then, a barely audible pop and ring resound as the circuits to and fro the lights engage in electric movement. A gentle hum pervades the air as the bulbs begin to burn and the world of drama is illuminated - totally foreign to this congregation, but oh, so familiar to the actor. The play has begun.

The actor's eye adjusts to the brilliance. He perceives minuscule particles of dust floating in the amber and blue rays. A euphoric thrill surges through his body as he loses himself in those lights. He suddenly imagines a universe of light and tiny solar systems of heavenly spheres dancing about - seemingly unaware of their fragile existence.

He inhales and watches as the vacuum that is created by the surging of air pulls at so many of the orbs and planets whirling about. All of the sudden, they begin to violently careen into the empty spaces of the limelight and disintegrate as they collide with vicious motion into one another. The colorful eruption that follows by degrees morphs into swirls of dramatic hue. Magenta and violet strands dance together in a shroud of velvet and creamy texture.

As his olfactories perceive the chaotic demise of so many systems, he is pleased to find the aura of sent to be rich with pleasant death. That is to say, via the destruction of these spheres, orbs, and planets, an aroma so deep, and thick, and full is created that his head begins to feel light, his extremities seem weightless, and his senses slightly dull.

He begins to exhale. He closes his eyes tight as the once oxygen-laden air passes from deep within his lungs and throat and back into the universe of color and light. His face and nose tingle with delight as he replaces those battered spheres into their orbits. And with a gentle puff, he watches them drift away from him, and evolve into beings of grace and beauty - blowing him soft and gentle kisses of farewell as they quietly wave goodbye and leave him to the wondrous reality of the play.

The play concludes. The congregation praises with applause. The actor bows his head. The lights go down. The limelight is gone, and the actor, like a phantom, sits at the end of the darkened stage and remembers those tiny planets and smiles.

My Mother's Song

How Much Farther to Go?

I walk this earth alone.
How much farther to go?
I stray today and gave away.
How much farther to go?
The world, it fierceness, takes my love.
How much farther to go?
I kissed the ones I love today; I stabbed them in back.
How much farther to go?
Oh Death, sweet death, where are you? Come.
How much further to go?
I long to hear your peaceful song.
How much farther to go?
I can hardly wait till you take my life.
How much farther to go?
For I still walk this earth alone.
How much farther to go?

the fleeing man

The trees whisper in the wind. A calm breeze lifts the leaves and settles them back down again. The sunlight is diffused by the grey clouds in the sky, the forest seems especially green. Far in the distance a crow cawed, closer by, the sound of pounding feet came ever closer.

A man came running through this peaceful woods. His eyes were wide with terror. He panted and gasped for air as he ran. His feet bled as he scuffed them on root and rock. He dared to make a glance behind him and saw nothing. But it was coming, he knew it was. It would only be seconds before the beast was on him. He could hear it galloping wildly through the overgrown woods. Its heavy feet were making loud pounding noises on the dirt. He passed a family of overly-large mushrooms, their red caps covered in white spots, he did not even glance at them as they called in his mind. Above him, a large rook circled and swooped, it cawed its death-caw loudly and made known that the man was his once he collapsed. Ahead of the man and to the left stood a tall black tower, its peak rose nimbly in the air and radiated a sense of horror to the man. A small red dot waved and wove about halfway up the dark tower. He ran on, his bleeding feet leaving bloody prints on the forest floor behind him. Ahead of him the trees suddenly grew thicker, he closed his eyes and ran headfirst into the clearing on the other side of the trees. A pristine lake surrounded by trees on all sides. The clear water glistened in the sunlight.

Wait sunlight?

The man looked up, the sun was now brightly glaring in the blue sky. Birds chirped their songs. He looked down at his feet and discovered that they were not bleeding anymore, they were not even cut. The terrible sense of dread that he had felt before was gone. The thing chasing him had disappeared. He turned back and peered up into the sky, the tower was still there, but it seemed less dark now, maybe the sun had a brightening effect on it. He turned and waded into the lake. Its coolness washed over his body. He smiled up at the sky. And from the tower he heard a child laugh.

Work of Works

A heart that’s pure you won’t despise,
O Lord, who made the earth and skies.

Why then do I wear such facade?
I may fool man, but You are God!

And now, I see that my heart’s black,
I’m losing ground, my pace is slack.

My heart was once aflame for You
But now it’s cold and turning blue.

Please save me from my wretched self!
My spirit’s sick; I need new health!

The fellowship I held so dear
Will never come again, I fear,

Until You work a work in me
And make me blind so I can see.

The blind man never lost his way
When You were all his hope and stay.

Let me look only in Your face
So I will only see Your grace.

The plans You have are not my own
So I will trust--don’t let me roam!

This life will never be the same
When I cling tight and claim Your name;

When finally I bear my cross
And you consume all of my dross;

When I desire heaven’s joys
More than this earth and all her toys.

Please work a work inside of me;
Change my desires by Your decree.

You don’t want false obedience
Or actions of expedience.

You only want my pure motives,
So take my thoughts and, like a sieve

Please strain me, drain me, of myself
And make me pure and free from filth.

But please don’t stop until You’re done;
Burn all my dirt with Your Pure Sun.

With Your Pure Wind come over me
And blow away all the debris

That crowds my life and fills my mind
With junk that makes me lag behind!

So work this work of works in me
So I can serve, unhampered, free!

You’re Safer in His Hands (A lesson learned by one who cares too much)

(A lesson learned by one who cares too much)

It’s hard for me to leave you there;
Seems ‘twould be less painful not to care,
But let you stray in ignorance and fear
Instead of reaching out.

For reaching out requires a reaching up
To place you in His hands
Instead of into mine.

/Once stirred to care,
It’s hard to trust;
But you’re safer in His hands./

His hands are strong to save and to keep,
To comfort and to guide.
They bear the marks that prove His love
A love that yearns to hold you close and
And never let you go.

And now through prayer, I’ve come to be
Tuned to feel that yearning, too,
And echo it within.

/For once stirred to care,
It’s hard to trust,
But you’re safer in His hands./

My hands are weak, uncertain;
First devoted, then devoid
Of any loyalty.
Though well-intentioned,
I’ve found that they are prone to drop or to crush
That which I love the most.
I was not made to hold you safe,
But to lead you to the One who can.
Yet, I was designed to care about you
(though at times the price seems too high).

/For once stirred to care,
It’s hard to trust;
But you’re safer in His hands./

Yet Trust is what He seeks in me,
And you as well. And now, I see
That, by giving more to care about-
More to cherish and hold important-
He gives me more to entrust to Him,
A chance to see my faith increase.
You see, He’s wise in how to work His will in us-
To work in me by using me to work in you.

/So, though once stirred to care,
It’s still hard to trust.
I’ll quickly place you in His hands;
For you’re safer in His hands./

You are Always There

Once I was near to you
Once did I always love you,
but now here I am
in misery and anguish.
Wishing I could love you again.


Once in my darkest moment
Once did I see your light
It shone so bright that
then it dried my tears and
lifted all my fears.


I always knew you were near,
but for fear of shame did I drift away.
I felt like you could never look at me again
I never wanted you to be ashamed of me.


It was then that I realized that you never left my side,
but I yours.
You reached out your hand to me,
but I shoved it away saying, "I can do it myself!"


No matter how many times I tried to pick myself up,
I kept falling back down.
It is then that I take your hand and you pick me back up


You picked me up like nothing ever happened.
Why? How could one show so much love to a poor,
wretched sinner like me? After all I did to you!!


"How can you still love me" I asked.
He never said a word, but revealed His heart to me,
and showed me what unconditional love is really like


I then realized my need for repentance.
I could no longer hold all the things
I was hiding from you.
I got down on my knees because,
the burden was so great.
You said, "Let me share the burden."


It was like a weight was being
lifted off my back and the chains set free.
I never felt so free as that moment.
I then said that I never want to leave
my first love again!
For it is in Him that I see the light!


I know you're there!
Just shine your light more brilliantly!
For it is my darkest hour that I realize:
I need you always!


Everytime I look to the sky now,
I see the majesty of you.
Everytime I feel the warmth of the sun,
I can feel your arm around me,
and know you are there.


Everytime it rains, I feel your
sadness for all the sin in the world.
Including mine. I feel the pain of the
world with every raindrop.


All the sadness it gives me,
makes me all the more want
to serve you. For in serving you,
is my eternal glory.
In you is my true reward.


We may try to get all the world's pleasures,
but when we realize how worthless the are,
we see you in all your glory.
Like glasses being put on when we can't see.