in time.

If I were wind, I'd lift your wings

or arms, or heart, or other things.

I'd take your hand, and draw you close,

make gravity loose its tethering hold.

And high we'd go, outside our dreams,

to find the truth beyond our means.

Blind to boundary and all of it's lying,
free to be wind and carry you flying.

If I were light, I'd fill your frame,
warm you're heart, whisper your name.

Remind your thoughts of where they began,
convince your faith your more than sand.

I'd sing the song inside your bones,
resonate the forever sound of home.

Citizens of the sky we'd be,
if I were light and you believed.

If I were time, I'd lift you out,
so space was less of what life was about.

I'd peel back stars and layers perceived,
I'd close your eyes and help you to see.

I'd stop the gears and trickling sand,
I'd place universes in the palm of your hand.

All things you'd hear, and know, and feel,
and rest to know time is only partially real.

If I were hope, I'd have no foe,
undefeated, immortal, and I'd have you know.

I'd be permission to do all sorts of things,
to fly on the wind, take time on your dreams.

I'd let sunlight wake you too late in the day,
give second chance to things you might say.

There'd be no barrier or impossible wall,
if I were hope, and you did not feel small.

If I were you, I'd love me so much.
I'd relish the power in my words, my touch.

I'd know just how needed and wanted I am.
I'd harness the wind with only my hands.

If I were you, I'd relinquish the fight,
believe I was born of the beauty of light.

If I were you...
but I am not.

And sweetly swept amidst space and time, 

sailing change and defying mind,

we are bleeding hearts received as gold,

in the treasury of the known and bold;
coursing beneath a skin well trained,

grace and its glory in restricted veins.

Eternity written like fire in flesh,

consuming ideals, admiring the mess.

And I'll go to my grave and beyond it to sow

this seed in your heart...

 and in time, you'll know.

real[ity].

Try, try, and try again.

Crumble beneath the invisible wind.

Bleed your knees for all they're worth;
pretend you're well from the outside in.

Fight to stay the waning breath.

Lung, and limb, and no one left.

Remember light in eyes that tried;
jerk awake to loneliness.

Here we fell, in love and pain;

in circumstance; in crippling blame.


Here we breathe the stifling air,
contend too hard for the meager gain.

Try, try, strive to relieve;

captive to the knowledge of free.

This oubliette of darkness immersed;
where you never deserve opportunity.



And the trouble is...
It's the lie you know that becomes your creed,

in the war of real and reality.

Save Us.

passing through.

These words move across pavements;
trailing momentum amidst gravity and motion.

Hear me, walls and thresholds..
I am just passing through.

The quiet breath of sole to cement.
Heel to toe, heart to mouth.

The tacit language of soul & lament.
Heal in tow, heart in mouth.


And your flavor settles,
finest wine; fragrant wind.

Body & bouquet put to rest;
Rest upon rest, upon resting again.

The greener the pasture,
the less seeing the sheep.

And we all, like sheep have...

So hear me,
you walls,
you thresholds.

I am a journey not for your keeping.
Time and space outside of your frame.

I am words, moving through pavements;
shadowing momentum through walls and hearts and motion.

Recurring breath of soul through cement.

I am just passing through.

as of lately. - Kellye Rae Miller

Timidity and fear have become more than just acquaintance.

In their masquerade of wisdom, they settled in my thoughts;

and I greeted them with no hostility,

I was curious to hear their advice.

My mind wrapped around their certainties,

Adopting their rationale, I gave them place in my heart.

They lived in a perfect breeding ground there,

 and came up for breath at uncertain future and unpaid bills.

They began to thrive there in the dark place,

letting themselves be known at every opportune time.

I elected their voice as a familiar friend;

their habits were now my heart response

I became well-versed in their unfulfilling melody,

so I added blame to their song.

The new addition crowned me lordship and power;

I disowned responsibility, I threw fault to whoever I felt fit.

I could hear their whispers about the future;

saying fear was soon to retire.

Blame began to pack up his voice,

and he moved from heart to mouth.

The move was difficult for us all.

Fear became irrelevant, forgotten.

The hierarchy had been established,

and fear lost its duty when others were at fault.

Time told us we could live on like this,

and we learned to tag-team accordingly.

Fear would occasionally make a cameo,

but only as blame's sidekick, aiding well in his accusation.

Beware to mistake this order for kinship,

wearily holding hands within the ranks;

for in the moment we interlocked our fingers,

the wind will trap us there in ripple and sway.

So down we fall, four frontline soldiers,

our tour sharply reaching its end.

We lie face down on our self-made battlefield,

Unveiled to the reality of the outside casualty count.

to hope.

Hope is a perilous endeavor;

a precarious business,
wherein the condition of the heart
is the bearer of the weight.

Where the risk is to hope at all.

Hope is the opportunity.

The door to the chalkboard room;
walls, floor and ceiling,
bare and longing that You might compose Your dreams there.

That You might fill the empty space.

I have of my own will, before now;
but the intention of the characters is qualified by the author,
not merely the lean and weight of the hand.

Penmanship I wear well,
but I am not You.

I am not the night sky,
swelling with depth;
Effervescent glitter,
swallowed in immortal midnight blue.

I am not the light of day,
spilling gentle charity over earth and flesh;
bathing heart and fear with invincible warmth.

I am not benevolence.
Benevolent, Yes.
But who of the two of us calls goodness their offspring?

You.
You are good.
Only You.

Hope; what perilous endeavor.

What treacherous footing to tread
on the path to promises fulfilled.

But You are sure.
Though my eyes dare not see,
You are sure...

And the risk is to hope at all.

where walking cease.

You've painted me a cripple;

stolen the virtue of trained limbs,
and given little explanation.

I breathed in the cool of the day;
alive in the innocence of ignorance,
drinking deeply its wonder...

or at least so I believed.

But beyond the flaming gates,
in the land east of Eden,
my heart returned to the dust.

My flesh remembered;
my veins coursed liquid air,
acquired with my adequate lungs.

And there I understood alone.

"To what gain", said the earth.
"To what gain is your walking?

You only move further away from where it is that you're going."

"For what purpose", groaned creation.
"For what purpose is your talking?

You only declare things you have not understood"

But what of my lungs;
are they not strong?

What of these legs;
do they not carry me forward on sinew and bone?

What of these eyes;
can they not perceive the way before me?

There I understood alone.

For all of my going,
and breathing,
and seeing...
I've done my good to the end of Yours.

Blinded in the brilliant light
of the likeness impressing itself,

I lost my way in finding it well.

So paint me the cripple;
You owe me no explanation.

Make me to lie down,
so You might lead me beside.

Restore the soul that surrenders;
restore the soul that has given up.

So that someone beside myself,
so that You,
might rescue me.

Paint me the cripple,
in the garden where walking cease.

vessel.

Count the cost, they say.

And I sit in my waiting,
yet to find a relinquishment of my own...

yet to bear witness to any forfeiture of mine
that wears its bravery proudly.

At least not in light of this.


Lonely is the vessel, in an estranged sea.
Bartering with currents,
Contending with waves...

...a campaign against wind
and odds
for the sincerity of it's proud hull.

But lonely is the vessel,
proceeding against a trained sea.
Hoping against hope to find one of its own kind.

A voice in the wilderness,
orphaned in its cause.

Count the cost, they say?

At what return...?


Lonely is the vessel,
and cost is inherent within the wound.

Deserted in the cost
of counting all else as loss..

..of calling the bluff,
and heralding an epic

that nurtures no counting at all.


And I sit in my waiting...

yet to bear witness to any forfeiture of mine

that wears its bravery proudly.

At least not in light of this.

saveme.

Residual ache,
and the familiar presence of subsequent numbness.

I am a fortress...
with paper walls and toy cannons.

A battlement forged in the sweat of my own effort.

Man-made and proportionately immortal.

Thick skin and practiced expressions.

No one will know I hurt if I can help it.
No one.

But therein lies the problem with paper...
tearing beneath pressure,
moving with the wind.

So blow me down.

Watch imperial towers fall in Your wake.
Leave me in ruin,

in numbness.

In the presence of residual ache.

For I am a fortress,
cannons firing blanks.

A battlement forged of my good effort,
that can no longer fight for itself.

Save me.

permissible. [forbetterorworse]

These doldrums have become a dull drum..

predictable repetition of such numbingly wearisome rhythm.

My heart beats far too extravagantly,
far too alive,
to find its rest in this pattern.

And so, stand I will not...
wait expectantly I will not.

Tarrying has lost its luster in the blinding light of promise.
Your promise.

I have lost my interest in the decoration of performance.
Her metals are not rare.

Rusted and conventional,
they leak they're poison through the flesh of my chest...

entering the bloodstream, and corrupting the heart.

I will not give up my breath to self-made and tepid,
if that's what is to give You glory.

It's all You
or it's all me.

All
or nothing.

You, who orchestrates the rhythm of this heart.

Write your resonant symphony,
or will me your wand.

Only one of us can conduct,
and the zenith of time is upon us.

If You are who I hope,
breathe life into wearied and numb...
be the heart-bending melody and sweeping landscape.

Do, so I will not.

These doldrums are not my home,
so make for me a land called pleasure...

lest I am left to my own limbs and devices,
to fulfill promises my heart did not dare to utter.

All, or nothing.
Permissible?
Yes.

Beneficial is the chief responsibility and,
I want to believe,
the sole longing of the benefactor.

For better or worse.

forfeit.

What admirable will;
pure as the driven snow,
blind as the night is dark.

Exalt yourself follower...

believe in your shallow moment and waning pride
that you have done well.

Build your house on good effort and righteous performance...

Live in your facade, knowing all too deeply
that you haven't ever known.

I've traveled the four winds to discover the discipline of men
is often no more than the social security of the flesh.

Taking parts and pieces here and there...
promising a payout one day for faithfulness.

And so, I am found, guilty with the rest.

Creating a God who is good
somewhere in the mural of my duly rewarded accomplishments;

Making for myself a God I can see,
and bowing at its feet...
all so I can be certain he does, and is, exactly as I need.

But no less, and certainly no more.

Today,
Today I forfeit my "faith".

alive and fighting.

We fight to stay alive.

Make our beds with images and moments...
The substance of, or substances that feel like air in our lungs...water on our skin...

fire on the altar
alcohol in the blood
opiate for the nerves

We throw up our hands,
grasping at the right to feel...

something.

Try your giving up, only to find yourself trying.

To feel.
To know you have life.

The mandatory war of breath and existence.
We all, with or without the judgements on our lips,

we fight to stay alive.

breathing in.

I'm not that far from reality.

One breath in;
cold air against tired and tattered lungs

Even this handwriting is tired...
disorganized, contrived.

Whether they understand me or not,
I am living for what is real for now,
not then..

not them.

There always seems to be a gentle discontent in the voice of my words.



But I have learned that the pain perceived is, more often than not,
a hidden joy.

For the joy set before Him...

Vision gives pain purpose.
Purpose gives pain vision.

Pain gives purpose perspective.

The qualifier of passion..
hardship takes the helm at the open seas of live yet lived.

And we, her passengers, become either the heroes of the storm
or the cowards of her wreckage.

Well, I for one, do not plan to go down with your ship.

Call me the self-absorbed one.
Yes, I took the life boat.
Yes, I took the life vest.

Yes. I preserved my life.

I have eyes beyond your taunting influence.

Justice beyond your lofty judgements.

Because I know.

I have tasted of the age to come,
the sweetness of a woman's courage,
the hurricane of her discontent...

I have seen the "worth it" of the worthless.

One breath in...
    starlit air in my punctured, heaving lungs.

I hurt for real.
Feel the pain of sincerity...

and consider these things worth it.

I'm not that far from reality.

toneed.

Maintenance.
Silent keeping of a heart that often forgets to keep beating.

But what was once a 2nd nature seems to have deteriorated in time...

obligation steals away the breaths you're supposed to take.

Here, the gently unsettled place between sleep and awake,
here is where there is recollection of what it is to need.

I was once a brave soul,
standing tall in the face of giants,
slaying them with my sling full of seasoned words and vain repetitions.

Oh, the vanity of words...
the self-importance of knowledge.

I was once a swollen chest,
a proudly pulsing rhythm in a cavernous hull...

resonating like it was full.

Hiding like it was empty.

And so it was.  And so I see.
That what was once a second nature was in truth a learned behavior.

I am a lung that needs the air.
We have hearts that beat without our permission,
without our diligence.

There is no second nature, but only surely what is natural.

I have nothing but to be loved,
and therein be brought to life.

And still I maintain.
Try my hand at machines I don't understand.
Aim to change,
and fall just short of indifference.

Around again, to the same conclusions,
and melodies dancing in my head.

Here between sleep and awake,
gently unsettled.

I need You.
This is what it is to need.

Inside of me (a song for Kellye Rae: written mostly before she said yes to me)

I'll be funny just to make you laugh,
and let you keep thinking that time's just passing..

'cause you don't know how you warm my heart.

I'll find a melody that I can sing to,
'cause I know if I start it then you might sing too..

I can't say it now, but you're all I want.

I've been trying to find a way to tell you,
but I couldn't find the words.
Trying to find a way to say you're more beautiful,
than anything I've seen or heard.
Even melody and rhythm fail me,
and harmony makes it worse..
'cause there's just no way to tell you what you're worth...

I love you just the way you are,
and baby can't you see my heart has come alive
since you found your way inside.

I knew it when I saw your eyes,
and baby don't you know you don't have to try,
'cause you found your way inside of me.

I'll spend my life to give you butterflies,
and know its not a waste of my time..

I'll only move if I you'll take my hand.

Run into you to get you close to me,
hand in hand its you I'm breathing,

excuse me miss...
may I have this dance?

I've been trying to find a way to tell you,

but I couldn't find the words.

Trying to find a way to say you're more beautiful,

than anything I've seen or heard.

Even melody and rhythm fail me,

and harmony makes it worse..

'cause there's just no way to tell you what you're worth...

I love you just the way you are,

and baby can't you see my heart has come alive

since you found your way inside.

I knew it when I saw your eyes, 

and baby don't you know you don't have to try,

'cause you found your way inside

of me.

eternity dust.

What worn refrain.

"There must be more to this life"...
And yet in the free-will stillness inside of me,
I hear the familiar voice of discontent.

Where is life, but in favorable company,
too much to drink, and the general abiding sense

that everything is going to be okay?

Where is life but where You give it...
where You breathe it in?

I have come to one conclusion,
standing like the immortal fortress
among the ruins of all that I've believed concerning You...

it is the occupation of humanity to follow the breath.

The vestige of a dying breed;
evidence of beings whose very existence
gives testimony to Yours.

Those led of the spirit;
those called the Sons of God.

There must be more to this life.
There must be life within this life.

There is a dust on my eyelids that gives flight to my dreams..

it is always the waking that grounds me.

brave love.

You are an unflinching affection.

I am an outcome,
and the object.

Let there be...
Without confine or concern;
without tyranny or precaution.

With joy.

Setting aside pretense;
I've come to delight in blood.


Congealed light, washed along my eyelids,
spilling over remorse;
running through my veins.

For the joy set before You, there is joy fixed within me.
Flesh wed with spirit;
one now
and forever.

What I once imagined to plague your heart,
I've realized only served its role in Your acclaim.

ALL things new.
ALL, together for the good.
ALL live, and move, and have their being.

You are the bravest heart;
the truest love.

Let there be light; let there be love.
You are an unflinching affection.

You are brave love.

the coming.

I will keep my eyes open.

When the ground trembles and the water rises,

I will refuse to miss the brilliant coming.

Watch.

Watch and pray,

You who call on the Lord.

Though an army encamp against me,

though war may rise against me,

in this I will be confident.

I look to the hills;

to the horizon,

where my hope comes from.

Behold, beloved...

longing, He rides the sunset.

I will keep my eyes open,

because therein is this joy of mine fulfilled.

I will decrease, You will increase...

therein I am satisfied.

I will keep my eyes open, 

to behold the One I hope in.

I will make for you a resting place.

I will keep my eyes open.

the unique business of serving the flame that taunts your hand to quench it

At the brittle edge of your reality, I breathe in deeply.

You are far from me, 

but I know you like you are me.

Resilient.  Conspicuous. 

You’d give yourself to contrast before your intended purpose.

Fame belongs to the fire who burns alone in the dark.

Dancing violently; competing with your own shadow.

movement declaring independence a thousand words could not contend with...

all without regard for the wick you’re bound to;

without acknowledgement...

...that you are a warmth that belongs to a source,

and you serve a purpose that has little to do with that shadow.

How easily you forget the way your beauty illuminates a room.

How quickly you’re drawn away by a darkness rendered in the light you’ve become.

You are a fire on my skin, just like you are on that wick.

Your nature does not change;

Your aftermath does not concern you...

...yet.

But I am a fabric that you have not yet set fire;

licking my flesh to tire its resolve.

Defending yourself, you’ve made way for your performance,

but forfeited the beauty of just light;

just existence.

Striving to free your unmanageable form,

you’d burn down this room if it’d prove your point.

You are unprecedented potential; 

made to do more than flicker.

But the splendor of your longing has diminished you in its grandeur;

beautiful fire, fighting to have value.

I would not put you out, no matter how you taunt my flesh.

No matter how you believe it is the inevitable end.

You matter to me...more than you know.

I do not remain here because I have seen you;

but because it is by you that I’ve seen everything else.

It is by you..in you, flame I uphold, 

that I see even myself.

You are my light in my darkness,

not a shadow maker.

You’re a comfort in my silence,

you do more than fight for your life.

And to think...just in your being.

Not in your doing.

This is a unique business, serving you;

and hold you I will,

until you see what you are.

flesh and dust.

It has been so long...
and we've come so far together.

In the roaring cement waterfall,
my words drift on forgotten winds.

But You haven't forgotten a thing, have You?

The rise and fall of kingdoms;
war and reign; loss and victory.
Like testimony of grandeur long past,
I've stood with You atop the rubble of their walls.

Eyes closed in willed establishment against a river of remembrance...

In the darkness behind them, I do remember.
I'll always remember.

Oh how this flesh would love to affirm the feared abandoment,
and give voice to its cogency as my due verdict.

It's all the same stuff, flesh and dust.

I can hardly tell the difference between flesh clothing the hand extended
toward You and the cavernous fractures in the arid desert floor that meets my knees.

I am withered,
but surely not alone.

It's the memory that escapes from my clenched eyelids to
moisten the earth it falls to,
that makes a liar of this carnal frame...

You will neither leave me, nor forsake me.

You know me.
You hear me.
You have not forgotten a thing.

I feel You, like skin, enclosing what could not clothe itself.

I feel the blood again...
heartbeat...after heartbeat...

You make all things new.

Hello, old friend. Well done, good and faithful...
My heart breaks to know You're still with me.

It has been so long, and we've been so far.

But it would seem I've finally grasped the distance.
I've finally arrived at together.

Thank You for together.
I have, and will, love You back.

broken; made whole.

If here is the easiest place, I want to be alive somewhere else;

beyond the company of its memory.

Here is without you.

And you are a part now.

The steady rhythm hidden in my chest listens for your voice;

rising at the timbre, slowing in the absence.

I wonder often if you know that you still make me nervous.

What a brilliant enchantment; 

heart recklessly infatuated, stomach dancing the anticipation...

hand searching for yours.

Who am I?

That you would choose me; let me try to love you.

Only one other ever afforded me the grace...

but then again, He affords it to all who'd have it.

But you...

you chose one. 

Responded. 

To one.

You let me be the only...

It's all I ever wanted.

If here is without you, it is not the easiest place.

No one promised easy.

Here is for you. 

Here is about then. 

Here is for always.

Steady rhythm, hidden in my chest..

rising quickly, falling with measure.

It felt you, and set awry its course...

rising quickly, falling in love.

Now the blood gets where it needs to.

thank you.

forever...thank you.

broken; made whole.