Christmas Miracle Between the spaces that expand with each daybreak and distill by solar retreat was a gap in Satan’s game-plan. For to us was born, a Child of Destiny. Carefully curated to restore our humanity back to the frequency of Love. A reunion of sorts. To condense infinity to finite flesh. And unfold eternity from a manger in Bethlehem.

Potential Energy In the space between ‘do’ and ‘done’ lay a realm of daft potential. Where endless possibilities compete with what’s inevitable. Where infinity meets it’s end. Beyond the boundaries of perception. Where we condense space and time. Into the here and now. Exchanging fear, for love. (Not a feeling. But a place.) Where we step into newness with revived anticipation. Knowing that our lives are fixed firmly in the faith filled hands of God.

So far, I fear, The tender state of our present predicament Will render misplaced directives As undue objectives. Directly responsible for lost time, I Remove the plastic wrapping from my vantage point. Revealing the messiness of faux morality. Steeped in an incomplete philosophy of what life is to be. To be, Regal in appearance is no justification. For when we meet our Maker, our makeup won’t do.

The Beginning In the beginning There was the Word. The Logos. The penultimate building block of Eternal existence. Fomenting from the lips of God. A truth inspired. A faith required. A death retired. The never tired, Unexpired, Matchless breath of Elohim.

Lost Rem-ories The distance between synapses and Enactments rack up lost sleeps, deep in land of the ethereal. Where the random empty moments Of restoration engender mass delusions. Rendering reckless entertainment as momentary bliss Dismissing lethargy of its capacity to negotiate. The slumber once enjoyed devolves into Rapid eyes moving under fastened eyelids. And yet – To awake. Is to recognise.

Psalm 23 The Good Shepherd doth lead His sheep, toward silent streams juxtaposed boundless prairie. Though, in the valley of despair – There resides the littlest lie. Remember not the lessons of death & dis ease. Rather, render your remembrance To the path before you. (evil is not to be feared) To take comfort in Reality, Is to remain fixated on The Architect. Whose home has many rooms, and plenty space for you.

Imposter Syndrome I often feel as if It’s only a matter of Time Before I’m found out As fraudulent. Like these lines Leak lies that vaguely resemble Love. But who am I? To lay claim on what’s Divine? As if half hearted words Assorted as putrid poetry could Ever Truly capture the essence Of what it means to be Alive.

Universe City There’s a subsistence to Existence A Reality That underpins our daft pursuits Our potential. Potentially. (Or particularly.) Tethered to an expansive experiment. A symphonic unraveling of Truth. We call it, the universe. As in, one song. One.. two, three, four. One. The downbeat of eternity exploded forth as The Maestro, masterful in intention Recieved us back into Oneness. And then, we remember.

Prayer Not sure of where You’re leading me. Not sure of what’s in store. Can’t see the plans You have quite yet, Just know there must be more. Than lowly unrequited love That some take on for granted. I pray, O God, you’d move my heart Uproot the fear that’s planted. Remind me of Your saving grace, To trust that I am free. Reveal inside the pride that binds And sow humility.