July 28, 2008

Forgiveness Song

I'm a lost son of God on my way back home;
Gonna carry my burden from when I'm young till I'm old;
Gonna hold on tight to what it is that I own,
I'm a fool.

Gonna lie in wait in the crefts of the rock
For the devil to see me, for the devil to stop;
For that old serpant to speak what he talks,
I'm a fool.

Gonna run on off like a scaredy cat
Screaming, Father, Father; Oh, Daddy Dad.
Please tackle the lion that I got mad
When I's a fool.

But He knows much better and he knows His hand
Gonna tie my fetters in a bountiful land
Where I'm tied to the trees with the fruit and the breeze
I can drink.

So, I'm running on back to the bondage of
Those honey dripping trees I burned because
I went on off and followed me
Like a fool.

But the path is long and the way is steep
And the devil He keeps following me
And I worry hard cause I don't believe,
I'm a son.

And I go to the hill and I go to the wood
And I cross on back crossed the places I stood
In a younger day in an older way
Like a fool.

Come home, Son's there but the misbelief
Has aged and I am walking weak ,
And it's hard to breath with atrophy
Of the heart.

In death, I ask the Lord to hold me up
And pull me to his dining sup
Like a prodigal, like a coming home
For a fool.

And He answerers me, Like always, son,
And didn't push the years I'd won
For the love of running in the hunt
Of avoiding rest.

And I rest in the arms of a happy God
Like a soldier home from the longest tour
In the barronest land with the deepest ghouls
And the fools.

And He sees my eyes and He lifts them up
And the deepest part of the banquet cup
Is the gift of peace in the shackled feet
I tie.

And we go on off and don't remember
The cold and hate of my December
As we plant and grow eternal seasons
Of Spring.

July 27, 2008

the boring and the miraculous

Things are waning, lady;
Young and yet you're hoaring; baby,
The angels take to soaring; lately
Flying seems a little less than

Miraculous.

You worry I could leave
Like it’s ocean burnt and drowned trees;
When you’re using all you’re energy
To close. Leaving ain’t so

Miraculous.

We've always said
The first step in doing
Something is to do it. Step on out
And don’t not do, do it. It ain’t

Miraculous.

The ebb and flow of love and goings
Something I’ve been hard at knowing;
Moon and sun’s so steady showing,
Burning in the skies; staying so

Miraculous.

Steady as the sky,
ain’t that miraculous.

July 17, 2008

=)

I see an image of a scene, millions strong, but I am in it and so can only see perhaps a thousand around me. I don't see any faces, only our actions, one action. Our mouths are open, rapt in praise and singing in one direction. From each of our mouths a stream is going forth and depending on the slight positioning of our aim toward the source, with a slouching hip or pigeon toe to the left or right, our streams collide with one another like headwaters meeting creeks converging as they do to tributaries of greater rivers and greater rives until whole and finally the rushing is one consuming visible wind about us.

This is how I imagine part of the dissolve of our hope to sight, the release of the Holy Spirit as a pledge and power to be with us to an inexpressibly good, different new way of Heaven. But i'm sure it will be different.