The water is clearer than the air, and the air is the air that angels breathe.
-Mark Twain
“…at last the lake burst upon us—a noble sheet of blue water lifted six thousand three hundred feet above the level of the sea, and walled in by a rim of snow-clad mountain peaks that towered aloft full three thousand feet higher still… I thought it must surely be the fairest picture the whole earth affords.”
-A distant relative of mine—Mark Twain
Should I stand perchance and gaze upon your shore while your waves they dance —abrupt and still where my thoughts shall spill forevermore.
I look so deep within your emerald depth for as much as what I seek is likened to your clarity.
And so it is beneath a mirror —tinted zephyr here I stood dreaming awake fifteen years to the day.
For my gladness you have given and my wishes true as your hue blue. Though in your reflection of me I will always see a storm-savaged sea amongst these waves of tranquility.
Floated by your youth upon a buoyant breeze with your water and your sand you took me by the hand. And so I swam through the depths of you so deep and blue so tried and true.
So let us head His way
towards a brand new day.
It is there
He will seal our stamps
beneath Heaven’s oiled lamp.
The soul like a wax waiting for its seal only to be softened on the path to God’s will
A soul itself has no identity til it finds some warmth deep in His destiny.
This wax it will melt as it reaches His hand and so it will be whatever He sees as the truth of our identity shall forever set us free.
For all souls will fall soft as they turn to His light cradled with a faith which howls with the coming night.
But if a soul so lost lives in the dark with no intent of seeking His spark the spark it will cease while the soul dries hard and crumble it shall to an arid ash fallen through the crease of hell
Therefore it is wise to stand beside His blazing fire held by a hand and His will as our only desire.
It is then when we sit soft a place He will prepare one of which we have never been scared.
Stay warm and oh so whole for on the day of death—so cold Christ will come to carry us through one last breath on our way Home.
So let us head His way towards a brand new day. It is there He will seal our stamps beneath Heaven’s oiled lamp.
And please say your peace as you leave your feet. It’s nothing but your soul’s divine identity pure bliss will forever keep.
Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.
—Robert Frost
As of now it’s getting late. With the night darkness does create ebbed by all looking to degenerate.
To sleep but a wink is just a bit of imagery while my eyes they blink subtle hints of symmetry.
My mind it dreams as it always has widened awake til left whereas by my heart’s last ache.
It is in this pitch black beauty I know I am blessed but to see the sun I must give it my best. Then she came and I was left stunned by her symphony.
Yet I see it still stuck to the simplicity with each lance of light sifting through songs of sympathy sung by a morning bright.
And those church bells they ring singing me to sleep while through my window the light it slowly seeps with an inspiration spilled from a darkness deep— lit by love’s jubilation.
So for those who wish to sing they will always find a song sung right here in this wild little sing-a-long.
Humility, that low, sweet root, from which all heavenly virtues shoot.
Some poets are not poets for the same reason that some spiritual men are not saints—they never prosper at being themselves. They never get around to being the particular poet or spiritual person they are intended to be in the eyes of God. And it is true that they never get around to being the man or artist that was built by the circumstance of their own life.
Years are squandered in the efforts of vanity to become some other poet, some other saint. For reasons in the realm of absurdity, they feel indulged to try and summon some inner existence that perished centuries ago, which lived through circumstances wholly unfamiliar to their own reality.
They wear out their minds while exhausting their bodies through indignant endeavors with the promise of creating a one of a kind experience for those that cement themselves in the essence of spirituality. And sometimes they do rush the experience to meet their own self-centered and exhausted demands.
Hurry has long been known to ruin the creative mind. To often one seeks quick success and tends to drift with such haste to get it—that they cannot take the time to truly be themselves. And when madness falls upon their mind they argue that this drifted haste is but a species of integrity.
Within all prodigious creative mind’s you find that humility and integrity coincide in the comforts of perfect balance. The creative who understands this, knows that they are themselves because they have been humbled by God in some way, shape, or form.
As far as the accidentals of this life are concerned, humility will stand content with whatever it is that satisfies the generalities of a society. This does not mean that in the essence of humility we should consist in being just as everyone else.
It is upon the contrary that humility promises to be the precise person that God intended you to be. And since no two people are alike, if you carry with you the humility to be yourself, you will not be like anyone else within the totality of this universe.
This individuality will not always assert itself upon the surface of daily routine. It will not be a matter of mere appearance, or opinion, or ways of doing things. It is something buried deep in the creative soul. It is something within that only few can exude, something very similar to daylight’s prelude.
To truly exist in humility, the ordinary ways and means of men are not, in any way, a matter of conflict. The humbled do not worry about what everyone else is doing—the trends of others matter not. To conform to, or lack thereof with these stumbled occasions in life, as a matter of life or death is to fill your inner self with unnecessary noise and confusion.
It is the humbled man that ignores this indifference by doing whatever it is in this world that helps him to find God while stumbling upon his purpose at the same time, all the while leaving the rest aside. He learns to see with clarity that what is useful to him may seem useless to someone else, and what helps others find their purpose may ruin him.
Now we come to the purpose of this post. It is when one makes a promise to God, to live humbled beneath the will of Him, that the spirit refines itself, it finds a peace with a common sense that knows nothing of sane morality.
Before a downfall the heart is haughty, but humility comes before honor.
Proverbs 18 : 12
There is no humility in insisting on being someone you are not. One may as well go ahead and say to God, I know better than You, who I am to be. And how would you expect to walk your own journey home if you take another man’s road? How should one reach his or her own self-delegated level of perfection by pretending to be someone else?
In this scenario, sanctity will never be yours; you must have the humility to work out your own salvation in a wilderness where you are absolutely alone. And so from here humility takes a heroic turn when one decides it’s time to be nothing else than the man, the creative, that God intended him to be.
And honesty will often be fabricated as an illusion to seem like pride. This is a thoughtful temptation because you can never know whether you are being true to the truth of you, or if you are merely fortifying a defense for the falsity of your personality—the creature of your own appetite for admiration.
But humility is at its most prominent when the lesson is learned that in the anguish of keeping your balance in such humbled demeanor—you continue to be yourself without acting tough about it, and without asserting your false self against the falsity of others.
Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not be conceited.
Romans 12 : 16
So let us pray.
Lord, too often and in too many ways I’ve put myself first—above my loyalty to You, above my recognition of sin, above my need for repentance, above my humble reliance on You for everything. Today, Lord, I come to you with a promise that I will always be humbled by the grace of You, and I ask that You purge from me any selfish pride and help me to see all things as they really are. You first. You always. And I thank you for this beautiful day that awaits.
But whoever drinks of the water that I will give him shall never thirst; but the water that I will give him will become in him a well of water springing up to eternal life.
