Hearing

“Bid me come,” says the Lord. 

Open doors, dream dreams.

 “Oh Seer, Un-disappointable, un-offendable,”

Kneeling before the Worthy One, 

First love.

“I want more of you,” says the Lord.

Ever beckoning, the voice at the door.

“Will you open for me?” 

Rise out of bed, hand on the latch, I am beckoned.

“Dreamer, come and dream with me.”

Called to relent the independence, cradled indifference, 

self protective credence, to be free. 

On our hands

What’s wrong?
The guns the guns the guns.
No.
The laws the laws the laws.
No.
The minds the minds the minds.
Yes
Filled with hatred and lies
That tell the right index finger to pull the trigger
To subdue the howling / suppress the fouling
demand for blood     / divide from the other
On our hands.

Break forth

The ground mourns, a seedbed for weeds,

Weakened by years of neglect,

Left, alone, too long.

The strength is destroyed,

The joy dries up,

The passion languishes.

Who is this shadow?

Untended, lacking a harvest,

Not the fruitful land of past.

Break forth and sing O barren one!

Your days of mourning shall be ended,

That He may be glorified.

I am the Lord, in its time I will hasten it. 

Yet to see

The world has yet to see what one man fully yielded to God might accomplish. -Charles Wesley

Each day to prayer I compose

To write a line without burning passion
Figment and filament of my intuition
If time is taken each day, the needed grace will come.

Such assurance, content to believe
Word by word, stone by stone, bird by bird. Receive
forgetting pride and whim, only
Tracing and stepping
Practicing discipline.

Sustaining Revival

“There has never been a revival in any country that has not begun in united prayer, and no revival has ever continued beyond the duration of those prayer meetings.” A.T. Pierson

The Notes Between (or, he brought me to his table)

The notes between
the ones
existing in copied scales,
whetted and invisible, beside
or beyond
dimensions still'd
or have you forgotten?
When the prelusive Voice spoke
calming all notes, with form and teeming.

The notes between,
like the s p a c e between stars
those gods and creatures warring
transcending
heptatonic, pentatonic,
major, lilting, minor, shifting,
enduring.

The notes between,
like a pause between thoughts,
or a breath,
expanding as lungs, cascading
collapse to emptiness,
again.

The cadence
behind your fire bright eyes,
gauge and grain and thumb.
Rhythm beckoned, my heart
melody pressed, you spoke
the notes inbetween.