September 08, 2004

Poetic thoughts...


Every strand of hair upon your head was counted
Every leaf upon the tree has shown its face
Every shadowed clouded form has been added to the mark
Tallying the blessings in your name

Every smile has been forecast before your birth
Every tear that you have shed already fell
Every hope and frail desire was known within the mold
Forming you to be the �Who� you are

Every choice you�ve had to choose from here was seen
Every path which you could travel was laid out
Every moment of your life was ordained before the cry
Announcing your arrival on this earth

But the way you style your hair is yours to choose
The cut, the length, the shade, the very hue
And the path through clouds or sun, on which you choose to run
Is a choice that has been left alone to you

To smile or cry a tear is your decision
The result of your selection for the day
And though your heavenly Father would love to lend a hand
His opportunity to do is yours to say

Fate, we often blame for fear or shame
Simpler to disdain than owning fault
Created for a purpose and a reason
Our desired destination, ours to halt

From the Potter�s hand our bones and flesh were cast
Intended to reside with him, to last
Every thought within our minds designed to fit the bill
Is hampered only by our gift�

Free will.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The greatest gift that God ever gave to man is the greatest challenge that we'll ever know. Regardless of the experiences we may endure, be they good or bad, simple or difficult, the one thing that separates mankind from all other of God's creations is the gift he has given us... The ability to choose, freely, how we will respond to life. This is the greatest lesson that each of us has to learn, and the greatest challenge we have as parents: To teach our children that no matter what they have been through, no matter what has been done to them, they can choose a different path than their environment would indicate they will walk.

Free will is a blessing and a curse. When we make a concious choice to choose, we become responsible for the results of our decisions. What a blessed challenge God has given all of us!


Eye of the storm�

She sits within the center of the room
Chaotic screams surround her very breath
Proceedings from the fractured day lay strewn
Beneath her feet and burdened on her chest

She is the calm inside the winds of pain
The cooling peace within the fiery blast
A mote of dust, which landed, lays quietly at rest
The stillness at the axis her home

Outside the world is swirling in the night
With tempests borne of unremitting rage
Coiling �round the quay and drawing ships to drown
Luring weakened souls into the gale

Still yet, her arms bring shelter to her kin
Enveloping within a safe embrace
Of comfort offered fiercely, along with all her love
Oblivious to jeopardy or place

An island cushioned, wrapped in cotton wool
Fixed steadfast, firm, against the crashing seas
The anchor stone within foundations wall
She is the framework for her family



In the quiet, in the dark,
in the undiscovered depths
Deep within the caverns� grasping, gasping breadth

Trapped alone inside a view
of twisted tortured song
Her soul, her mind, her will seems to have flown

And laying in the ebon space,
listening to her pain
Reverberating with each clenching pulse

Her tears are drawn up through the well,
beleaguered as they fall
Sketching imprints of a heart forlorn

Sightless eyes where windows
once opened to the day
Are blackened and are broken under skies

Where huddled shuttered, desperate
her joy has gone astray
Mislaid, her sheen has vanished into night



Sitting silent, lost in thought
A subtle sound was heard
Barely making waves upon my mind

Its secret stroke brushing soft
A muffled whispered breath
Searching for affection on its climb

And passing by my present
To futures yet, unknown
Message so essential to my time

�twas only by the grace of heav�n
The import caught my ear
Rousing weighted pressures intertwined


The Tourney�

Colored shirts like flowers covered the terrain
In bunches as they gathered on the green
Voices sang with pleasure roving with the call
Of shining orbs of glory where they fall

With bats of blazing silver, with heads of tempered steel
The goal shone like a beacon on the hill
And lifting application, imbuing subtle might
The glowing hail of beauty leaned to fly

Shots rocket like an arrow into the grassy knoll
Reflecting sunlit rays upon the shoals
Whose gaze projects their wonder in adoration�s tune
As songs of laughter, joyously were hewn

Posted by TwoSons at September 8, 2004 02:43 AM | TrackBack


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