Sophia Was Sad; Now We Both Are

Reality is a struggle today; the real is not so much.
A dream came early this morning--it seemed so true; so factual
that waking didn't dispell it.
Wearing that dream all morning keeps the fog around;
keeps the bright green leaves in 3D;
keeps the images of all that was lost so close; yet so intangible.

I had a conversation with my former life.
We argued over what is real; what should be and what is.
In desperation, I cried out quietly in a whisper.
Like the rescue of a thousand horses, Truth came.
Like Solomon with the much acclaimed half baby decision.
I, the true mother found myself screaming--"Oh please don't kill the sovereignty of God
just to make what was, again."

Just like God asked Job: "Would you discredit my justice?"
"Would you condemn Me to justify yourself?"

Of course not silly; it was just a dream.

Still a bit of sunset at 7:30

I want to see the stars
like David did
when he sang the psalms and songs of solitude; of the intentional focus of God.

I want to turn aside
like Moses did
when he noticed the burning miracle of God's presence and purpose.

I want to rise in very relationship like Enoch and Elijah did
when they were caught up in walking close; in conversation.

I want to remain
like Joshua did
when he continued in the temple; when he couldn't get enough.

But when?
When do I turn aside?
When do I see or sing; rise or remain?

Here; here and now.
Here in the middle of doing,
speaking, thinking and expressing
and moving and having my being.

Forum of Appius and the Three Taverns Acts 28:1-16

What does it mean to travel miles and miles
to look upon inconvenience as opportunity

In the middle of the day--a word, a thought, a smile--a meal
Right after the longest night--an affirmation, a testimony
In the face of doubt--a co-conspirator; partner in reality

Press in--the light over Saul on the Damascus road--overbearing; weighty; unshakable
Overflow--Malta--"..the rest of the sick on the island came and were cured."
Fear not--God is keeping me alive and you with me.

Go and stir up your gifts--you cog; you well-fitting joint; you belt; you knit together in your mother's womb for this very purpose. And, after prayer, lay hands on and heal the Body of Christ.

The Logical Conclusion--Dreamsong

I cannot see a storm approach at night.
When the wind grows mysterious, tremulous and scattered,
my thoughts will match it.
My thoughts will carry it out to the end;
till I reach the conclusion that all things...
all things are in Him and through Him and by Him.

Praise the Living God; my very breath.
Praise the Hands that hold the meaning of all beauty: of every word.

The exhalations of the wind--
the sigh of God; the sigh before the breath before the song begins.
I have to stop and breathe the deep smell of rain.

Early Morning Ezekiel

Standing under lightning and thunder
and the urge to close my eyes
and hold my breath.

I have to move; I have to breathe.
Where can I go from Your Spirit?
Where can I go from Your Presence?

I'm next to Ezekiel--carried up in the Spirit,
facedown as the temple is filled; on my side
for days on end.

I watch the Prince's gate--the East door
and worship at the threshold.

Next time I'll go in; I promise.

Draw Close

You are the beauty in the beginning,
the satisfaction in the end;
the giver of the good gift of suffering,
and the fashioner of sorrow.
There is solace in Your eyes and patience on Your face.

Lines from intimate gaze release the breath I've been holding.
You speak a language just for me.

Like oil, your presence spills over my cheeks and lips;

We have turned aside to Sabbath together.