Gen 1:5- “And God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And the evening and the morning were the first day.” This is…

The Birth of Day

The Morning Sky is blown open by an epic sunrise. Groaning’s are heard as creation awakens to a subtle wind breathing.

A pink lite sky explodes into a brilliant orange gleaming with the pureness of day break, dreams faint, fading into memory.

I’ve been ready to see this day, my light shining in an awesome display, finally seeing the fruit of my labor,

When all work was done in the depth of darkness, when the Sun laid hidden away, participating in the making of creation, when prayers where loosed in my darkest moments;

Desire joined with hope giving focus to faith. Now soul stands with open arms, reaching for the dusk at the cusp of a warm embrace….

Gen 2:7 And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul. This is…

I Have to Get Back…

Shoulder pains, feeling the burden of sudden change. Birth canal opens to purpose banging on the door.

Explosions of light consuming the shadows of a life I remember no more,

Struggling, trying to fit an Earth size dream through the volume of a pen hole.

My Eye’s holdfast to the light that beckons me forward.

It’s a press!

Fighting to fit the form of an ancient breath; pressing in remembrance of the paradise my soul left.

I have to get back to my oasis, back to it’s luscious habitat, back to where God showed me the course of my tracks,

Before I departed from him, living a life separated from the Christ with-in.

I have to get back to paradise, back too my throne,

back to…,

back to the place that I once called home;

I have too…!

Get back….

If I could ever define the reason why I write, I could only say, this is…


I, dream to be on stages proclaiming Gods praises speaking words that evoke change, this is what I endorse, bringing reconciliation to aspirations once divorced.

I, dream of writing portraits, pictures painted upon the canvas of the heart, masterpieces worthy of Pulitzer Prize recognition, bringing healing to hearts that received corrupting incisions.

I, dream of poems full of wisdom, encouragement, and instruction; bridging the gap between what’s naturally seen reaching Heavens junction.

I, dream of my gifting in its perfection providing shelter for souls needing protection manifesting Christ to those who seek life.

I, dream of my children’s children rehearsing my words, seeing my heart, and inhaling every word learning life through my lessons pushing them to greater highest.

I, dream of a place where I AM free, Freewriting my path brainstorming my
imagination-station, the factory where these words are framed.

I, dream of a life without want or need, where everything is supplied by the Gospel I believe.

I, dream of works published, works that will stand the test of time long after my transition through space and time.

These are things I hold close to chest hoping to see them manifest before my last breath….