JUXTAPOSITION!!!
Beyond the time that flies lies the time that dies; the time that tries but fails to affect the mind. It escapes but for an instant, not realizing it is confined and restricted by the hand that designs. I must begin to
cross that line,
the one that separates the reality and the reality deferred, the one the Spirit has set up and guards with divine purpose.
It's obscured--
my
vision
in
this
dim
light
which despises the fight, the obligation to hold on and hold back the bursting shine that comes from beyond the enemy's line.
I am desperate for that elusive brightness.
It feeds my mind, soul, heart, body, strength, spirit, friendships, everything and anything that surrounds my life. Those touched by it don't know they beg for more with each sigh, with each uncertain guess as to what's eating their insides.
It seems it's time to start ignoring time and face the kind of light that only true glory shines forth. I no longer wish to be bored. I no more desire wings with which to fly than I do true beauty disguised as a smile from a child.
It's bewildering sometimes,
to taste the most authentic sweetness in the history of time,
to touch the most significant freedom that's ever been ignited,
to feel the best hope that can be imagined by a human mind,
to hear the musical voices of both the Spirit and those who fly on the waves of His wind:
angels of the most high.
I'm tired and sick of not being tried nor having any opposition and persecution and degradation with which to battle then die, in nearly every sense of the concept.
I try
to convey
what's inside
with words
that rhyme, but sometimes I just want to stop and have a few lines that don't rhyme with the previous one or two. But as lame as writing is to be that through which I articulate my thoughts, it is a wonder and a blessing, something I'll never take for granted as long as I'm alive: and trust me-- that will be a long, long
time...
that is, if I can even begin to understand what that word means.
Goodnight.
cross that line,
the one that separates the reality and the reality deferred, the one the Spirit has set up and guards with divine purpose.
It's obscured--
my
vision
in
this
dim
light
which despises the fight, the obligation to hold on and hold back the bursting shine that comes from beyond the enemy's line.
I am desperate for that elusive brightness.
It feeds my mind, soul, heart, body, strength, spirit, friendships, everything and anything that surrounds my life. Those touched by it don't know they beg for more with each sigh, with each uncertain guess as to what's eating their insides.
It seems it's time to start ignoring time and face the kind of light that only true glory shines forth. I no longer wish to be bored. I no more desire wings with which to fly than I do true beauty disguised as a smile from a child.
It's bewildering sometimes,
to taste the most authentic sweetness in the history of time,
to touch the most significant freedom that's ever been ignited,
to feel the best hope that can be imagined by a human mind,
to hear the musical voices of both the Spirit and those who fly on the waves of His wind:
angels of the most high.
I'm tired and sick of not being tried nor having any opposition and persecution and degradation with which to battle then die, in nearly every sense of the concept.
I try
to convey
what's inside
with words
that rhyme, but sometimes I just want to stop and have a few lines that don't rhyme with the previous one or two. But as lame as writing is to be that through which I articulate my thoughts, it is a wonder and a blessing, something I'll never take for granted as long as I'm alive: and trust me-- that will be a long, long
time...
that is, if I can even begin to understand what that word means.
Goodnight.